In the last few months that I've been unemployed, I've had a lot more time to get to know some new men. In doing so, I've met some really good guys, and some not so good guys. As a person that seeks comfort with what I know from experience, I have also had the urge to get in touch with a few old flames, primarily for distraction, but also because it has been an incredibly tough few months. A new acquaintance cannot offer the same intimacy and understanding that a person from my past can offer. But I have fought the urge to contact my old flames, and have generally succeeded in staying away from devices like my phone, computer, and smoke signal that would allow me to do so. The reason for this is my first, and most important, dating rule that I have imposed on myself.
1. I cannot find my future if I keep living in my past.
This rule is important for two reasons:
a.) I need to let them live their lives. One of the men that I keep wanting to run to is my ex with all the kids and baby mommas. Last I heard from him, he definitely wasn't happy with the child, I mean girlfriend, he was with, but they have a baby together, and so he needed to stay with her, healthy or not. He and I spent a bit of time together off and on several months ago, seeking comfort and someone that gets our sense of humor, eventhough he had his girlfriend at home. This made a mockery of both our lives. It was nothing like the love we had, not even a dim reflection of it. That's gone, and frankly, it's never coming back. It was primarily physical, and even that wasn't that good. It was like getting a teeth cleaning. I have a more sensual time at the spa with my massage therapist. Obviously, this was really doing nothing for either of us. And the more I contacted him, the more I was destroying his life and that of his child.
b.) I need to let go. If these distractions were at all good for me, I would still be with them. One of the men I keep wanting to contact is the fighter. The fighter who was always gone, who brought out the worst in me, who condescended to me often, who most likely cheated on me, and who talked about slapping me around like it was nothing. Don't get me wrong, we had fun, and we really cared for each other, but obviously it was not a healthy relationship, and definitely not someone that I should be around. There is a reason he is not in my life. I need to recognize and respect that. Otherwise I'm more of a dumbshit than he ever told me I was.
Which brings me to the second rule:
2. Not every man worth meeting is worth keeping.
This rule sounds like common sense, but most women, at least those that I know, will keep someone around that they're not that into if there isn't someone that they are into. It's nice to have a companion when you would like to get out of the house, I get that. I'm not talking about decent guys that don't have that zing that makes your heart jump up your throat and choke you just because they looked at you. The guys that are smart, fun, reliable dudes who treat you with respect should be kept around. Spend time with them and get to know them. Things may develop with them, and if not, at least you do have someone fun to do things with. That's what dating is. The ones I am talking about are the ones that don't respect you, and are stupid for it.
I went on a date not long ago with a man that has a very reliable, somewhat glamorous and high earning position with a major company in the area. He has a swanky flat downtown, and owns several pieces of property. He is somewhat funny, and not unattractive. The date wasn't horrible, but he made mention a few times that I am a bit bigger than the girls that he usually dates. He also made sure that I knew that he had a "hair" fetish. During the date and over the course of a few phone calls and text conversations, he questioned me on my diet, my workouts, and requested that I lose weight "for him". He also requested that I get none of my body hair waxed or removed. I'm a Greek woman. If I don't take care of my body hair, it will grow out and suffocate me. He had no qualms demanding that I alter myself and my comfort for his desires, and I was barely interested in him in the first place. I eventually told him to shove it. He either needed to get over his issues, or refrain from contacting me. During the course of the last month, I once or twice thought about contacting him to see how he is doing, but I stopped myself. I was done with guys like him ages ago. I'm not looking back. I found out that he tried to contact me a couple of weeks ago, and upon seeing that, I still had the same gut response: he can shove it.
And the last rule for today's lesson:
3. Be completely, absolutely, unforgivingly myself, and love it.
I will never apologize for being me. My weight fluctuates - I have learned to love it. I like the work it takes to lose weight, and the way I can visibly see myself heal from what ever emotional incident caused the weight gain in the first place. I love that I work hard, that I speak my mind, that I fight for equality, and that I can still cuddle with those I care about. I love to cook, even when I mess up. I love to paint, and I love what the fruits of that labor brings, even if they are emotional paintings that aren't always pretty. I love that I am career minded and unwilling to be less so that I can make some man feel like he is more. I love to work with kids and animals, and to care for those that I come in contact with. I'm an amazing, kick ass, righteous babe, and anyone that is intimidated or uninterested in me can blow it out their ass. I'm also cute, too.
Having these three very basic rules in hand hasn't made dating easier, not at all, but they have made me look forward rather than back, and they have also helped me to recognize that when someone points out faults they believe I have, it's usually because they are unwilling to acknowledge and love the ones they see in themselves. If they can't love their own imperfections, they will never love mine, and my imperfections deserve to be loved.
Friday, September 27, 2013
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Man Whores And The Friends That Date Them
Several years ago I somehow allowed myself to become completely entranced by Jaba The Hut, well by his human counterpart to be exact. I had been cajoled into going to a country karaoke bar on a weekly basis by Stacey, as her boyfriend and his group of friends were frequenting it. I never cared overly much for the group of friends, but still wanted to be able to hang out with my best friend, so every week I found myself singing Sweet Home Alabama on the little stage at the western dive bar. Eventually, I started to make my own friends there with the regular bargoers, as I wasn't happy with the bulk of the company that I was there with.
It started with Henny, the door girl that checked IDs and kept the capacity count. She and I became fast friends. I chatted her up to keep her from her boredom, and she kept an eye out for me. She would let me know of any good looking men that came in without dates. I had become adept at befriending bouncers and door girls early on, for security and "hunting" purposes. Henny introduced me to a lot of her friends that were always there, and eventually I found myself going to the bar weekly on my own long after Stacey's group stopped going. I could be myself there, even if I was different than everyone else. As long as I accepted them, they accepted me warmly. I had found my friends in low places, and though I was happily along for the ride, I had no way of fathoming what that ride would be.
A few weeks in, while Stacey was still with me, we met a beautiful girl that was at the bar by herself. She was outgoing, friendly, smart, and a bit on the motherly side. You could tell that she sincerely cared for every person she met. The three of us struck up a conversation, and spent most of the evening dancing together. A week later, we saw her slow dancing with one of the regular guys there. He was a bigger guy that worked as a part time bouncer at a couple of bars in the outlaying area. I hadn't met him yet, but I was really impressed that he was dancing with our friend. Though she is beautiful, most guys in the bar would pass her by for the younger girls with no personality and taut bodies. To me, this guy dancing with my friend showed that he was above that. The next week I was in, I saw him dancing, and though he was a big guy, he was quite graceful. Looking back now, he looked like a giant dancing bear, but that's beside the point. Not thinking much of it, I complimented him on his dancing. Gawd, I wish I could take that back.
He introduced himself to me as Big Daddy Roy. Later that night he asked me out. It turned out that he wasn't in a relationship with our friend, they had just gone out once or twice. I was a little flabbergasted, but accepted the date. BDR came over to play board games and watch a movie. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't great either. This being during my mid twenties, the first date pretty quickly ended up in the bedroom, where he had performance issues. The pressure he put on himself to impress me caused utter failure instead. I felt pity for the guy. So much pity that I accepted another date with him.
On the second date we went to see a movie. He spent the evening trying to impress me with his horrible scary driving, and telling crappy jokes about lottery tickets to the sales girl at the concession stand. The date wasn't well at all. That night, once again, I took a bit of pity, and we ended up in the bedroom. It was a bit more successful this time, though I found out that while BDR was a big guy, he wasn't a "big" guy.
And that is where my memory becomes unclear. Somehow we had two horrible dates and nothing that wonderful happened in the bedroom, and yet over the next few months I ended up developing a craving for him. We continued dating, primarily in secret, though all of our friends new about it. I started to hear stories about him, not about random women, but stories directly from my bar friends there. About how they had dated him in some capacity in the past, and what their experiences were. Since I was an adult, and it was in the past, I listened without judging anyone for it.
The stories went from unsavory to downright nausea inducing. Stories about drunken hookups in the car, where he would find girls at the bar with esteem issues, and take advantage of their lack of confidence. I heard stories from a good friend of mine about how they had worked together and they would have sex all the time at work. She even told me that he was really good at anal because he wasn't well endowed. These stories churned my stomach. Almost every girl I met there had slept with him at some point or another. My friends would bring new friends in, that didn't know me or the bar, and in conversation with them I would find out that they had slept with him. The man was an enigma of gross sex.
Yet, I ran to him whenever he beckoned. BDR was not physically attractive at all. He had breasts bigger than my own, and pasty, sallow skin. He wouldn't acknowledge we were dating like I was something to be ashamed of. He drank like a fish, smoked like a forest fire, and for some reason had started smelling like ass. He began to ask to borrow money, and had come up with elaborate excuses as to why he needed it. We dated off and on for years. It was like the relationship in Say Anything where she writes these beautiful songs for an absolute douchebag, who keeps coming after her, destroying her ability to move on. I had fallen for Jaba The Hut, and there was no saving me, though I tried to stop dating him several times.
Eventually, during one of our "off" times, he came clean as to what he had needed all of the money for. He had finally gotten into a program because he had become addicted to heroin, and had been shooting it up on a regular basis. It's also why he had smelled like ass. The mix between beer, cigs, weed, and heroin being sweat out of his pores left an aroma literally like shit covered his body. When he fessed this up to me, he did it with an apology - one of the twelve steps. He then asked if I wanted to hang out soon. We were at it again. This time it was completely quiet, as he wasn't supposed to date during his first year. I came to find out that he was dating another girl from the bar. We'll call her Dodo, as she had a very distinct and sad resemblance to the bird of the same name. Dodo was also an addict, and engaged to another man. She was blonde, extremely pale, with a big hook nose, and about half my size (addict...). He started showing up at events, publically, with Dodo, not worried about appearances with her, though she was about to be married to another man. I randomly saw him out with her one night, and I immediately made a scene and dumped him.
Months later, we were back together, and yet again I ended up finding out he was talking to another girl from the bar. We'll call this girl Chickenhead, because, well, she had a chicken head - really huge cheeks, long pointy nose, and no chin. For awhile BDR had a real Audubon thing going. It made me wonder if I looked like some kind of bird, too.
Over the next year, he continued to see both of us, eventually getting into a relationship with her. I found out that he proposed to her on Valentine's Day. It disgusted me, but by that point I was trying to just let go, which is incredibly hard to do in your twenties. It becomes much easier in your thirties because you have already dealt with this crap in the lessons of your twenties. Some time after his engagement, BDR started to sniff around me again. Anytime he would see me happy, dancing with friends, out with a guy, or even just sitting talking with our group, he would try and talk to me, text me, call me, walk with me. He was relentless. Eventually I gave in and let him kiss me. We started back up again, while he was engaged to Chickenhead. It was horrible. One morning she came home, unexpectedly, 15 minutes after I had left, my forgotten panties hiding in the trash can. Another time he had dropped her off at the airport and immediately came to my house. The next morning, lying naked in bed next to me, he took a call from her, as she had just landed, and told her that he loved her.
Don't get me wrong - she had cheated on him before, with his best friend. Chickenhead was no angel. Somehow with all of this, I had lost myself, and was a shadow of who I really was. Three weeks before the wedding, I looked at him, and asked him what the fuck we were doing. What the fuck was I doing?!? I called it all off right then and there. I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror. The next day, I booked a ticket to the UK to visit my family there. The dates? I would be there the week of the wedding. I ran away. It was a good week, though I spent most of it hibernating. I had told my family what was going on, and they took especially good care of me.
I haven't spoken to BDR since the day that I dumped him. He's been married to Chickenhead for several years now, and she is welcome to keep him. They have a child, and, from what I hear, are happy. Looking at our situation with more sanity now, I would never want a husband that had been intimate with all of my friends (or 75% of the women in Seattle). I still love my friends that had dated him, but feel it is better to keep a little bit of a distance from a situation that was so unhealthy that way. I still can't comprehend why I got so wrapped up with a man I don't find attractive, nor did I ever find him mentally stimulating, or humorous, let alone that I found every single aspect of his behavior reprehensible. What I do know is that there are many reasons that I would never go back to my twenties, though I enjoyed them at the time, and he is definitely one of them.
It started with Henny, the door girl that checked IDs and kept the capacity count. She and I became fast friends. I chatted her up to keep her from her boredom, and she kept an eye out for me. She would let me know of any good looking men that came in without dates. I had become adept at befriending bouncers and door girls early on, for security and "hunting" purposes. Henny introduced me to a lot of her friends that were always there, and eventually I found myself going to the bar weekly on my own long after Stacey's group stopped going. I could be myself there, even if I was different than everyone else. As long as I accepted them, they accepted me warmly. I had found my friends in low places, and though I was happily along for the ride, I had no way of fathoming what that ride would be.
A few weeks in, while Stacey was still with me, we met a beautiful girl that was at the bar by herself. She was outgoing, friendly, smart, and a bit on the motherly side. You could tell that she sincerely cared for every person she met. The three of us struck up a conversation, and spent most of the evening dancing together. A week later, we saw her slow dancing with one of the regular guys there. He was a bigger guy that worked as a part time bouncer at a couple of bars in the outlaying area. I hadn't met him yet, but I was really impressed that he was dancing with our friend. Though she is beautiful, most guys in the bar would pass her by for the younger girls with no personality and taut bodies. To me, this guy dancing with my friend showed that he was above that. The next week I was in, I saw him dancing, and though he was a big guy, he was quite graceful. Looking back now, he looked like a giant dancing bear, but that's beside the point. Not thinking much of it, I complimented him on his dancing. Gawd, I wish I could take that back.
He introduced himself to me as Big Daddy Roy. Later that night he asked me out. It turned out that he wasn't in a relationship with our friend, they had just gone out once or twice. I was a little flabbergasted, but accepted the date. BDR came over to play board games and watch a movie. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't great either. This being during my mid twenties, the first date pretty quickly ended up in the bedroom, where he had performance issues. The pressure he put on himself to impress me caused utter failure instead. I felt pity for the guy. So much pity that I accepted another date with him.
On the second date we went to see a movie. He spent the evening trying to impress me with his horrible scary driving, and telling crappy jokes about lottery tickets to the sales girl at the concession stand. The date wasn't well at all. That night, once again, I took a bit of pity, and we ended up in the bedroom. It was a bit more successful this time, though I found out that while BDR was a big guy, he wasn't a "big" guy.
And that is where my memory becomes unclear. Somehow we had two horrible dates and nothing that wonderful happened in the bedroom, and yet over the next few months I ended up developing a craving for him. We continued dating, primarily in secret, though all of our friends new about it. I started to hear stories about him, not about random women, but stories directly from my bar friends there. About how they had dated him in some capacity in the past, and what their experiences were. Since I was an adult, and it was in the past, I listened without judging anyone for it.
The stories went from unsavory to downright nausea inducing. Stories about drunken hookups in the car, where he would find girls at the bar with esteem issues, and take advantage of their lack of confidence. I heard stories from a good friend of mine about how they had worked together and they would have sex all the time at work. She even told me that he was really good at anal because he wasn't well endowed. These stories churned my stomach. Almost every girl I met there had slept with him at some point or another. My friends would bring new friends in, that didn't know me or the bar, and in conversation with them I would find out that they had slept with him. The man was an enigma of gross sex.
Yet, I ran to him whenever he beckoned. BDR was not physically attractive at all. He had breasts bigger than my own, and pasty, sallow skin. He wouldn't acknowledge we were dating like I was something to be ashamed of. He drank like a fish, smoked like a forest fire, and for some reason had started smelling like ass. He began to ask to borrow money, and had come up with elaborate excuses as to why he needed it. We dated off and on for years. It was like the relationship in Say Anything where she writes these beautiful songs for an absolute douchebag, who keeps coming after her, destroying her ability to move on. I had fallen for Jaba The Hut, and there was no saving me, though I tried to stop dating him several times.
Eventually, during one of our "off" times, he came clean as to what he had needed all of the money for. He had finally gotten into a program because he had become addicted to heroin, and had been shooting it up on a regular basis. It's also why he had smelled like ass. The mix between beer, cigs, weed, and heroin being sweat out of his pores left an aroma literally like shit covered his body. When he fessed this up to me, he did it with an apology - one of the twelve steps. He then asked if I wanted to hang out soon. We were at it again. This time it was completely quiet, as he wasn't supposed to date during his first year. I came to find out that he was dating another girl from the bar. We'll call her Dodo, as she had a very distinct and sad resemblance to the bird of the same name. Dodo was also an addict, and engaged to another man. She was blonde, extremely pale, with a big hook nose, and about half my size (addict...). He started showing up at events, publically, with Dodo, not worried about appearances with her, though she was about to be married to another man. I randomly saw him out with her one night, and I immediately made a scene and dumped him.
Months later, we were back together, and yet again I ended up finding out he was talking to another girl from the bar. We'll call this girl Chickenhead, because, well, she had a chicken head - really huge cheeks, long pointy nose, and no chin. For awhile BDR had a real Audubon thing going. It made me wonder if I looked like some kind of bird, too.
Over the next year, he continued to see both of us, eventually getting into a relationship with her. I found out that he proposed to her on Valentine's Day. It disgusted me, but by that point I was trying to just let go, which is incredibly hard to do in your twenties. It becomes much easier in your thirties because you have already dealt with this crap in the lessons of your twenties. Some time after his engagement, BDR started to sniff around me again. Anytime he would see me happy, dancing with friends, out with a guy, or even just sitting talking with our group, he would try and talk to me, text me, call me, walk with me. He was relentless. Eventually I gave in and let him kiss me. We started back up again, while he was engaged to Chickenhead. It was horrible. One morning she came home, unexpectedly, 15 minutes after I had left, my forgotten panties hiding in the trash can. Another time he had dropped her off at the airport and immediately came to my house. The next morning, lying naked in bed next to me, he took a call from her, as she had just landed, and told her that he loved her.
Don't get me wrong - she had cheated on him before, with his best friend. Chickenhead was no angel. Somehow with all of this, I had lost myself, and was a shadow of who I really was. Three weeks before the wedding, I looked at him, and asked him what the fuck we were doing. What the fuck was I doing?!? I called it all off right then and there. I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror. The next day, I booked a ticket to the UK to visit my family there. The dates? I would be there the week of the wedding. I ran away. It was a good week, though I spent most of it hibernating. I had told my family what was going on, and they took especially good care of me.
I haven't spoken to BDR since the day that I dumped him. He's been married to Chickenhead for several years now, and she is welcome to keep him. They have a child, and, from what I hear, are happy. Looking at our situation with more sanity now, I would never want a husband that had been intimate with all of my friends (or 75% of the women in Seattle). I still love my friends that had dated him, but feel it is better to keep a little bit of a distance from a situation that was so unhealthy that way. I still can't comprehend why I got so wrapped up with a man I don't find attractive, nor did I ever find him mentally stimulating, or humorous, let alone that I found every single aspect of his behavior reprehensible. What I do know is that there are many reasons that I would never go back to my twenties, though I enjoyed them at the time, and he is definitely one of them.
It's Always The Best Policy
During a conversation with Mr. X recently, he mentioned that he had a less than satisfactory date. It was someone that he had met from a singles site, and what she mentioned as her interests on her profile didn't match up to her interests in person. This happens somewhat frequently in his experience, primarily with art. These women will state that they like art, meet him at a museum or gallery, and then power walk through it like they are running a marathon, missing all of the art that is around them. It turns out that they aren't interested in art, they just say they are because it seems like they should be. Like women are also supposed to like long walks on the beach. Everything says they are supposed to enjoy them. I hate long walks on the beach. Seriously. Sand is not the most comfortable feeling in sandals or flip flops, and going barefoot only leaves your feet vulnerable to sharp little rocks and broken glass, let alone sea kelp, bird doo-doo, and crabs. Obviously I would never put that on my profile.
At the end of this recent date, Mr. X decided to be honest, and tell her it was nice to meet her, without leaving the opening for another bad date. I love that he did that. He was polite but honest. I just wish that she had been as honest in her profile. It would've saved them both a horrible evening.
I am a very strong believer in honesty when dating. Not brutal honesty. There is never a need for brutality. Well, once, once there was a need for brutal honesty during one of my dates.
On a lark, I went to a singles mingle with my best friend, Stacey. Among the men I met, there was one that stood out because he was overly charismatic. He and his roommate had come out to meet people and have some fun. When he came over to me, he told me that he had three questions to ask me: #1. Was I under 40? #2. Do I have any crazy stalker ex-boyfriends? Aaaaaaaaaaaand #3. Does my hoo-ha stink? Obviously, I was horrified by the third question, but it was the only real turn off with him. I decided that I would remember the offensive question, but not completely dismiss him for it. I accepted the invitation to a date with him later that week.
I ended up having to meet him down south, closer to his area, though he had said he would come up my way. On the way there, I ended up calling and planning a date with the cop I had been seeing on and off for awhile. I should've known then that the date I was on the way to shouldn't be happening.
I met him at the upscale restaurant that he had selected. We sat side by side at the empty bar. This is one of my pet peeves. I want to be able to see the face of the person I am trying to get to know. The only reason to sit side by side on a first date is if there is no other option. Anyway, the restaurant he had selected is one of those that hire "models that serve," so that they can get away with hiring based on appearance. One of my former employees was working for this company at the time, and I knew their hiring process. My date started off by informing me that the restaurant hires strippers, and that's why he selected it. Completely offended by his statement, as now he was referring to my former employee, I corrected him.
During the date, he said a few ridiculous things. He told me that next time we met up, that I should bring all my "bitches" with me. He also told me that I had to work to get into his pants - a comment that came out of nowhere, as there was no way in hell I wanted to have anything to do with his pants. The date was going so bad that I was wholeheartedly considering excusing myself to go to the bathroom, and leaving through the window. It got to a point where I couldn't handle it anymore. All niceties were thrown to the wind, and I decided to do a good turn for whatever woman decided to date this ridiculous excuse for a man in the future. I had to be brutally honest with him.
I told him that unfortunately the date was not going as well as he thought it was, and that he had managed to do several things irreparably wrong. He was completely clueless as to what he had done. I informed him that it is not appropriate to: a) take a woman to a place because you think that strippers work there, b) refer to a woman's close friends as her "bitches", c) to assume that every woman wants to get into your pants, and tell them so, and most importantly, d) it is NOT appropriate to ask a woman if her hoo-ha stinks!
He looked at me dumbfounded. He assured me that the hoo-ha thing was funny, and that all the guys he told in the locker room that he asked women that found it hilarious. I decided to put it in a way he would understand: how would he react if a man asked his 16 year old daughter that. He looked at me blankly. Then I asked him what his mother would do if she heard him ask a woman that. I finally knew he understood when he said she would slap him upside the head.
Soon after this difficult lesson, he walked me out to my car. It was one of the weirdest good-byes I have ever had. I had put on my jacket, and he kept trying to "fix" it. He kept tugging at it in different directions. I finally realized that I had emasculated him to an extent that he was impotently trying to save face, and had no way to do it, so he was making an excuse to fix my jacket, which was just fine, in order to feel like there was something he could offer.
My one hope, looking back at all of this, is that my date, and Mr. X's date took away the lesson that Pinocchio learned oh so many years ago. Telling the truth and being a good respectful person that is true to themselves will always get you further than pretending to be something that you are not.
At the end of this recent date, Mr. X decided to be honest, and tell her it was nice to meet her, without leaving the opening for another bad date. I love that he did that. He was polite but honest. I just wish that she had been as honest in her profile. It would've saved them both a horrible evening.
I am a very strong believer in honesty when dating. Not brutal honesty. There is never a need for brutality. Well, once, once there was a need for brutal honesty during one of my dates.
On a lark, I went to a singles mingle with my best friend, Stacey. Among the men I met, there was one that stood out because he was overly charismatic. He and his roommate had come out to meet people and have some fun. When he came over to me, he told me that he had three questions to ask me: #1. Was I under 40? #2. Do I have any crazy stalker ex-boyfriends? Aaaaaaaaaaaand #3. Does my hoo-ha stink? Obviously, I was horrified by the third question, but it was the only real turn off with him. I decided that I would remember the offensive question, but not completely dismiss him for it. I accepted the invitation to a date with him later that week.
I ended up having to meet him down south, closer to his area, though he had said he would come up my way. On the way there, I ended up calling and planning a date with the cop I had been seeing on and off for awhile. I should've known then that the date I was on the way to shouldn't be happening.
I met him at the upscale restaurant that he had selected. We sat side by side at the empty bar. This is one of my pet peeves. I want to be able to see the face of the person I am trying to get to know. The only reason to sit side by side on a first date is if there is no other option. Anyway, the restaurant he had selected is one of those that hire "models that serve," so that they can get away with hiring based on appearance. One of my former employees was working for this company at the time, and I knew their hiring process. My date started off by informing me that the restaurant hires strippers, and that's why he selected it. Completely offended by his statement, as now he was referring to my former employee, I corrected him.
During the date, he said a few ridiculous things. He told me that next time we met up, that I should bring all my "bitches" with me. He also told me that I had to work to get into his pants - a comment that came out of nowhere, as there was no way in hell I wanted to have anything to do with his pants. The date was going so bad that I was wholeheartedly considering excusing myself to go to the bathroom, and leaving through the window. It got to a point where I couldn't handle it anymore. All niceties were thrown to the wind, and I decided to do a good turn for whatever woman decided to date this ridiculous excuse for a man in the future. I had to be brutally honest with him.
I told him that unfortunately the date was not going as well as he thought it was, and that he had managed to do several things irreparably wrong. He was completely clueless as to what he had done. I informed him that it is not appropriate to: a) take a woman to a place because you think that strippers work there, b) refer to a woman's close friends as her "bitches", c) to assume that every woman wants to get into your pants, and tell them so, and most importantly, d) it is NOT appropriate to ask a woman if her hoo-ha stinks!
He looked at me dumbfounded. He assured me that the hoo-ha thing was funny, and that all the guys he told in the locker room that he asked women that found it hilarious. I decided to put it in a way he would understand: how would he react if a man asked his 16 year old daughter that. He looked at me blankly. Then I asked him what his mother would do if she heard him ask a woman that. I finally knew he understood when he said she would slap him upside the head.
Soon after this difficult lesson, he walked me out to my car. It was one of the weirdest good-byes I have ever had. I had put on my jacket, and he kept trying to "fix" it. He kept tugging at it in different directions. I finally realized that I had emasculated him to an extent that he was impotently trying to save face, and had no way to do it, so he was making an excuse to fix my jacket, which was just fine, in order to feel like there was something he could offer.
My one hope, looking back at all of this, is that my date, and Mr. X's date took away the lesson that Pinocchio learned oh so many years ago. Telling the truth and being a good respectful person that is true to themselves will always get you further than pretending to be something that you are not.
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