So I met a woman on the internet, and after a few days of conversation, we decided to meet and go out to dinner. She was younger than me, very nice, very attractive, and we hit it off right away. There was a great chemistry, both physically and intellectually. The dinner and the company were both as enjoyable as I could possibly hope for.
As I was driving her home form the restaurant, the good vibes continued. We kept up our wide-ranging conversation on a variety of topics, and enjoyed how much of a connection that helped to develop between us, even though we certainly didn't see eye to eye on every topic. It seemed like after going through some rather "interesting" (in not so good ways) dates, I had finally found myself a potential keeper: attractive, smart, feisty, and funny; it seemed that she felt the same about me. On the way, she asked if I would like to keep the evening going by joining her in her apartment, an invitation which took me about 1.2 seconds to accept. It just keeps getting better! An air of anticipation filled the car, and we both seemed to be floating on air.
"I really am enjoying myself, for the first time in a long while."
"I'm having a great time too. You really have been a welcome change from some of my other dates."
"I know what you mean," she said, laughing. "I really like you."
"Thank you, I like you too."
She smiled and gave me a look that said you're about to find out how much I like you...
But then she said it: "You're different from most men."
Aaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!
The Angry Nerd can be a pretty easy going fellow for the most part, but he does have a few pet peeves. First and foremost among them is people cavalierly throwing around numbers and/or mathematical terminology when they have no way to support of back up the claims they are associating with said numbers or terms. And as a lover of all things mathematical, I can't prevent myself from becoming annoyed as hell whenever someone - even someone as attractive in every other way as my date - casually says something like "You're different from most men", no matter how hard I try. See, she thought she was paying a compliment to someone she really liked. The only thing I could take from those well-intended words, however, was that she was disrespecting the use of the word "most". I mean really, what "most" is she referring to? Most men in the world? In the United States? In Maryland? In Baltimore?
I paused and took a deep breath.
Just say thanks, let it go. Just say thanks, let it go. Just say thanks, let it go...
I tried...I really did...
"How would you know what 'most men' are like?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you said I'm not like 'most men'; how would you know what most men are like? There's an awful lot of men in this world."
"Obviously, I'm not talking about all the men in the world. What is wrong with you? Why are you jumping on me about this? You really want to take a compliment and try to pick it apart? I mean, DAMN."
Let it go, let it go, let it go, let it go, the little voice in my head kept saying. But, alas, I could not...
It probably wouldn't surprise you to find out that by the time I had finished lecturing her on the mathematical meaning of the word "most" - and my feelings about mis-use of mathematical terminology in general - that my invitation to come up to her apartment had been rescinded. You probably also won't be surprised to learn I never saw her again after that night.
I guess I told her...
Showing posts with label dating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dating. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Thursday, December 1, 2011
"The Dating Game", episode 4 - "Minnie the Moocher" (continued)
To read the first part of episode 4, click here
A few months after the birthday fiasco, I get a call...it's Minnie the Moocher. Damn, she got a nerve calling me! She must want something. I let the phone ring without answering, only to have her redial me twice more. Finally, against my better judgment, but also out of some curiosity, I answered.
The Moocher had called to apologize for how things went down. She admitted to be selfish, spoiled and high-maintenance, and tried to explain it away by saying that couldn't help it because everyone from her parents to friends to past boyfriends to lusty male co-workers had always done practically everything for her, so it had become rather routine to be pampered and waited on hand and foot, to the point that she didn't know any other way (or appreciate it). People did stuff for her; she didn't do stuff for people. But now, she said, she really missed me, and wanted a chance to make things up to me and show that she was trying to change. I told I wasn't sure, but I'd think about it and let her know...
The next day, I got a text from her asking if I'd thought about it.
"A little," I said, "But things have been busy and I hadn't really thought about it a whole lot yet."
"Well, I've got a surprise for you: I ordered some dinner, and I'm about to go and pick it up and come see you, so we can talk about it."
"You're paying for dinner and coming to see me? Well I guess I can't turn that down."
"Come one, don't be like that, I'm trying to make it up to you. I'll see you in a little bit."
A half an hour later, there she was, at my door. She looked as good as ever, dressed as provocatively as one can imagine someone dressing to come and visit someone to eat and watch TV, our normal date. She was also carrying a bag with something smelling very good in it, so she had followed through on picking up dinner. Clearly, she had baited the hook; the question was whether I was going to bite.
"Can we eat in the living room," she asked. "I want to get cozy."
"Sure, why not?" I replied. She headed for the sofa, I went to grab the TV trays to put the food on, and then joined her in the living room, only to see her remove one dinner from the bag.
"You bought one dinner? How is that making things up to me?"
"Well, you didn't have to cook for me."
"If I didn't have to cook for you, then that means I also didn't cook for me. And since you didn't bring me anything to eat, that means...you know what, never mind, it doesn't even matter. This" - I said, closing my eyes so as not to look down again at the big brown eyes and pouty lips (formed into a sad expression for effect), and the overflowing cleavage (squeezed together and rising and falling with deep breaths, also for effect) - "is not going to work."
So off she - and her dinner - went to go eat somewhere else...don't go away mad, I thought, looking away from that bootylicious stride as she headed back to her car, just go away...
A few months after the birthday fiasco, I get a call...it's Minnie the Moocher. Damn, she got a nerve calling me! She must want something. I let the phone ring without answering, only to have her redial me twice more. Finally, against my better judgment, but also out of some curiosity, I answered.
The Moocher had called to apologize for how things went down. She admitted to be selfish, spoiled and high-maintenance, and tried to explain it away by saying that couldn't help it because everyone from her parents to friends to past boyfriends to lusty male co-workers had always done practically everything for her, so it had become rather routine to be pampered and waited on hand and foot, to the point that she didn't know any other way (or appreciate it). People did stuff for her; she didn't do stuff for people. But now, she said, she really missed me, and wanted a chance to make things up to me and show that she was trying to change. I told I wasn't sure, but I'd think about it and let her know...
The next day, I got a text from her asking if I'd thought about it.
"A little," I said, "But things have been busy and I hadn't really thought about it a whole lot yet."
"Well, I've got a surprise for you: I ordered some dinner, and I'm about to go and pick it up and come see you, so we can talk about it."
"You're paying for dinner and coming to see me? Well I guess I can't turn that down."
"Come one, don't be like that, I'm trying to make it up to you. I'll see you in a little bit."
A half an hour later, there she was, at my door. She looked as good as ever, dressed as provocatively as one can imagine someone dressing to come and visit someone to eat and watch TV, our normal date. She was also carrying a bag with something smelling very good in it, so she had followed through on picking up dinner. Clearly, she had baited the hook; the question was whether I was going to bite.
"Can we eat in the living room," she asked. "I want to get cozy."
"Sure, why not?" I replied. She headed for the sofa, I went to grab the TV trays to put the food on, and then joined her in the living room, only to see her remove one dinner from the bag.
"You bought one dinner? How is that making things up to me?"
"Well, you didn't have to cook for me."
"If I didn't have to cook for you, then that means I also didn't cook for me. And since you didn't bring me anything to eat, that means...you know what, never mind, it doesn't even matter. This" - I said, closing my eyes so as not to look down again at the big brown eyes and pouty lips (formed into a sad expression for effect), and the overflowing cleavage (squeezed together and rising and falling with deep breaths, also for effect) - "is not going to work."
So off she - and her dinner - went to go eat somewhere else...don't go away mad, I thought, looking away from that bootylicious stride as she headed back to her car, just go away...
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
"The Dating Game", episode 4 - "Minnie the Moocher"
To read episode 3, click here
So a few years back, I decided to give the local phone chat lines a try, and I stared talking to this early 30s woman, very pleasant, employed (something you definitely have to ask on those lines), intelligent-sounding, and with whom I developed a mutual interest. After a few conversations, we decided to meet at a nearby restaurant (we lived failry close to each other) for dinner.
When we met, I thought I had hit the jackpot! She was gorgeous, with flawless dark skin, and a petite, but very curvy build. She certainly looked like she could have been one of the models in the commercial for the phone dating service, as opposed to a couple of others I had brief encounters with that far, far, far from model material. And she was every bit as pleasant in person as on the phone. She was also particularly excited about getting to eat, as she couldn't have stressed any more than she did just how hungry she was.
So we ordered our food: three appetizers (one for me, and two for her), and two very sizeable entrees. It was at this point that I became even more in awe of her than I already had been. When she said she was hungry, she wasn't kidding; this chick could EAT! After the appetizers, breadsticks, salad, and about half the entree, I was pretty much done. She, on the other hand, threw down on the appetizers and her entree, and when she saw I was slowing down, started picking at mine. Holy shit, I thought; how does that little body hold all that food? Did she starve herself to get ready for this date? Is she going to go into the bathroom and puke it all up when we're done?
We finished eating, I paid the bill, and we started to leave. On the way out, I asked what she wanted to do next. "I could really go for some dessert!" she said. Dessert? You gotta be fucking kidding me! I'm ready for an alka seltzer and a nap, and you want dessert? So I followed her to the nearest Coldstone Creamery (which I had never been to), and we got ourselves some ridiculous orders of ice cream. She followed me back to my place, and wolfed down all of her ice cream (and some of mine) while we watched a couple of movies before she went home.
A few days later, I make spaghetti, and as is often the case, I made way too much for me to eat without getting sick of it after having it 3 or 4 days in a row, so I give the fair lady a call to invite her to dinner.
"Ooooh, spaghetti", she said "I love spaghetti. I'll be right over! I hope you can cook!"
20 minutes later, she was at my door, appetite in tow. She made sure I was not going to have to worry about 3 days of spaghetti for leftovers, that's for sure. And what's more, she topped it off by finishing the last of my Coldstone Creamery Ice Cream from our date a couple days before hand. As always, she was pleasant, charming, and beautiful, so I didn't mind her appetite one bit. However, I didn't realize at the time that I was setting a bad precedent.
You know how they say you shouldn't feed a stray animal, because you won't be able to get rid of it? Well, the same applied to this chick. She was over a couple times a week, and occasionally all weekend, eating me out of house and home. Now on the one hand, I didn't mind. I like to cook, and eating alone isn't always that much fun; besides, she was great company, and I certainly enjoyed every moment around her. On the other hand, she was beginning to blow my food budget to smithereens, while not contributing a thing to our dinner dates. I mean, you'd think she would bring some dessert or a bottle of wine or something, but nope, she managed to show up every time empty handed and empty stomached, eat like it was her last meal, while making some vague promises about cooking for me or taking me out, promises that never came to fruition.,.
So one day when she was supposed to come over, I called and told her I was out of ice cream, and asked her to stop and pick up some. When she arrived, she had a bag in hand, and went to put it in the kitchen. As usual, we had our dinner, and headed to the living room to watch a couple of our favorite shows. At some point I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and she announced that she was going to get some ice cream. When I got back from the bathroom, she was back in the living room, with a pint of ice cream - and one spoon...
"So where's mine?" I asked.
"Oh, did you want some?"
"Well, you've been coming over here all these times eating my food and ice cream, you mean you couldn't bring ice cream for BOTH of us the one time I asked?"
So she reluctantly shared her ice cream with me, and from then on always stopped to get enough for us both. No meals from her still, but the ice cream was a start, I guess...
After several more weeks of this, my birthday was approaching. Normally I don't make much of a deal about my birthday, but with this woman, I made it a point to stress that my birthday was coming up, because I wanted to see what this hussy would do about it, if anything. She suggested going out to dinner, since we hadn't gone out much once I started feeding her home cooked meals. So on my birthday, she came and picked me up, we went to dinner, had a great time, and ate well- and a lot- as was always the case with her. Then came the waiter with the bill, and I gave her a look that said, "hey it's my birthday, what you gonna do?" and she looked at me like "Negro, please, I know you don't think I'm paying!" So guess who paid?
So fine, I paid (I was prepared for that likelihood anyway). We drove back to my place with me having a bit of an attitude, but I figured I'm gonna make up for this later...then we get home, she changes into something more comfortable, which took my mind off of paying for dinner real fast...but then:
"I have to ask you something."
"Okay"
"Can I borrow $100?"
"Say what? You trying to borrow money from me, on my BIRTHDAY???"
"Come on, baby, there's this dress I want to buy."
"You want money from me on my birthday to buy something for yourself?"
"Well, it would be for you too. It's a sexy dress, it's tight and low cut, and it shows off my boobs. You know how much you love the twins..." she shook them at me in her slinky negligee as she said this.
Yes, I certainly DO love those beautiful dark brown globes of perfection...I wonder how they would look in - no no no, snap out of it!
"Let me see if I got this straight," I finally said as I came to my senses. "You've been coming over here a few days a week for a couple of month, eating me out of house and home for free, promising to take me out or cook for me sometimes but never keeping that promise, then on my birthday, we go out, and you don't offer to pay for dinner, don't give me so much as a damn card, and THEN ask me for money? You done lost your damn mind!"
Well, let's just say that ended up being much less than the best birthday I've ever had...
So a few years back, I decided to give the local phone chat lines a try, and I stared talking to this early 30s woman, very pleasant, employed (something you definitely have to ask on those lines), intelligent-sounding, and with whom I developed a mutual interest. After a few conversations, we decided to meet at a nearby restaurant (we lived failry close to each other) for dinner.
When we met, I thought I had hit the jackpot! She was gorgeous, with flawless dark skin, and a petite, but very curvy build. She certainly looked like she could have been one of the models in the commercial for the phone dating service, as opposed to a couple of others I had brief encounters with that far, far, far from model material. And she was every bit as pleasant in person as on the phone. She was also particularly excited about getting to eat, as she couldn't have stressed any more than she did just how hungry she was.
So we ordered our food: three appetizers (one for me, and two for her), and two very sizeable entrees. It was at this point that I became even more in awe of her than I already had been. When she said she was hungry, she wasn't kidding; this chick could EAT! After the appetizers, breadsticks, salad, and about half the entree, I was pretty much done. She, on the other hand, threw down on the appetizers and her entree, and when she saw I was slowing down, started picking at mine. Holy shit, I thought; how does that little body hold all that food? Did she starve herself to get ready for this date? Is she going to go into the bathroom and puke it all up when we're done?
We finished eating, I paid the bill, and we started to leave. On the way out, I asked what she wanted to do next. "I could really go for some dessert!" she said. Dessert? You gotta be fucking kidding me! I'm ready for an alka seltzer and a nap, and you want dessert? So I followed her to the nearest Coldstone Creamery (which I had never been to), and we got ourselves some ridiculous orders of ice cream. She followed me back to my place, and wolfed down all of her ice cream (and some of mine) while we watched a couple of movies before she went home.
A few days later, I make spaghetti, and as is often the case, I made way too much for me to eat without getting sick of it after having it 3 or 4 days in a row, so I give the fair lady a call to invite her to dinner.
"Ooooh, spaghetti", she said "I love spaghetti. I'll be right over! I hope you can cook!"
20 minutes later, she was at my door, appetite in tow. She made sure I was not going to have to worry about 3 days of spaghetti for leftovers, that's for sure. And what's more, she topped it off by finishing the last of my Coldstone Creamery Ice Cream from our date a couple days before hand. As always, she was pleasant, charming, and beautiful, so I didn't mind her appetite one bit. However, I didn't realize at the time that I was setting a bad precedent.
You know how they say you shouldn't feed a stray animal, because you won't be able to get rid of it? Well, the same applied to this chick. She was over a couple times a week, and occasionally all weekend, eating me out of house and home. Now on the one hand, I didn't mind. I like to cook, and eating alone isn't always that much fun; besides, she was great company, and I certainly enjoyed every moment around her. On the other hand, she was beginning to blow my food budget to smithereens, while not contributing a thing to our dinner dates. I mean, you'd think she would bring some dessert or a bottle of wine or something, but nope, she managed to show up every time empty handed and empty stomached, eat like it was her last meal, while making some vague promises about cooking for me or taking me out, promises that never came to fruition.,.
So one day when she was supposed to come over, I called and told her I was out of ice cream, and asked her to stop and pick up some. When she arrived, she had a bag in hand, and went to put it in the kitchen. As usual, we had our dinner, and headed to the living room to watch a couple of our favorite shows. At some point I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and she announced that she was going to get some ice cream. When I got back from the bathroom, she was back in the living room, with a pint of ice cream - and one spoon...
"So where's mine?" I asked.
"Oh, did you want some?"
"Well, you've been coming over here all these times eating my food and ice cream, you mean you couldn't bring ice cream for BOTH of us the one time I asked?"
So she reluctantly shared her ice cream with me, and from then on always stopped to get enough for us both. No meals from her still, but the ice cream was a start, I guess...
After several more weeks of this, my birthday was approaching. Normally I don't make much of a deal about my birthday, but with this woman, I made it a point to stress that my birthday was coming up, because I wanted to see what this hussy would do about it, if anything. She suggested going out to dinner, since we hadn't gone out much once I started feeding her home cooked meals. So on my birthday, she came and picked me up, we went to dinner, had a great time, and ate well- and a lot- as was always the case with her. Then came the waiter with the bill, and I gave her a look that said, "hey it's my birthday, what you gonna do?" and she looked at me like "Negro, please, I know you don't think I'm paying!" So guess who paid?
So fine, I paid (I was prepared for that likelihood anyway). We drove back to my place with me having a bit of an attitude, but I figured I'm gonna make up for this later...then we get home, she changes into something more comfortable, which took my mind off of paying for dinner real fast...but then:
"I have to ask you something."
"Okay"
"Can I borrow $100?"
"Say what? You trying to borrow money from me, on my BIRTHDAY???"
"Come on, baby, there's this dress I want to buy."
"You want money from me on my birthday to buy something for yourself?"
"Well, it would be for you too. It's a sexy dress, it's tight and low cut, and it shows off my boobs. You know how much you love the twins..." she shook them at me in her slinky negligee as she said this.
Yes, I certainly DO love those beautiful dark brown globes of perfection...I wonder how they would look in - no no no, snap out of it!
"Let me see if I got this straight," I finally said as I came to my senses. "You've been coming over here a few days a week for a couple of month, eating me out of house and home for free, promising to take me out or cook for me sometimes but never keeping that promise, then on my birthday, we go out, and you don't offer to pay for dinner, don't give me so much as a damn card, and THEN ask me for money? You done lost your damn mind!"
Well, let's just say that ended up being much less than the best birthday I've ever had...
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
"The Dating Game", episode 3 - "Are They Your Pets?"
To read episode 2, click here.
To read episode 1, click here
So I got invited to a female acquaintance's home to hang out and catch a Ravens game, just the two of us.When I came through the door, I could smell the aroma of a good meal wafting from the kitchen, and there were drinks and munchies on the living room table. "This is going to be good", I thought...
I settled in, grabbed a drink and some chips and got myself nice and comfy. The living room was nice and neat; outdated furniture, but everything was well-kept. The dining room, however, at least from what I could see, was a junkyard. Boxes, toys, a couple of bicycles, broken chairs, two or three TVs on the floor...just junk all over the place. I shook my head and kind of shrugged it off at first glance...but now as we were chilling and watching the game, a sight from that junky dining room caught my eye: a mouse running around and jumping in and out of boxes. Now I'm not afraid of mice, but like most everyone else, I hate them pesky little motherfuckers with a passion, and the sight of this particular little motherfucker cavorting around this woman's dining room like it was his personal playground was distracting the hell out of me. I briefly thought about saying something, but then thought the better of it, and instead just repositioned myself on the sofa to try to get the dining room out of my peripheral vision and to focus on the game.
Apparently I became a litte too focused a little on the game and not enough on my hostess, because at some point she got off the sofa, walked in front of the television, and started to do what I could only assume was intended to be a seductive dance, except that it was so bad that it was far more funny than sexy. As I sat there watching her - partly pissed because she was blocking my view of the game, and partly amused by this woman's spectactularly bad dancing - I was suddenly startled by a mouse zipping out of nowhere, zooming under the coffee table that was between the sofa where I was sitting and the TV in front of which the woman was standing.
I jumped in surprise, which in turn startled the woman, who apparently didn't notice the mouse. When I explained what happened, she laughed at my being scared of a "lil ol' field mouse". Before I could protest, she came back to the sofa and said, "give me a massage." Sheeeshh, can I just watch the game?
So she stretched out on the sofa, and I straddled her and began to massage her neck and back, while keeping an eye on the game. But even with my attention divided between the game and the massage, something didn't feel quite right; I had a feeling like someone or something was watching me. But I kept massaging and watching the game. Then when there was a timeout, I took my eyes of the TV and looked straight ahead...and there it was: another mouse, sitting up on the arm rest of the sofa, looking dead at me...
I jumped and yelled, the woman jumped and yelled in response, and mouse jumped and took off - where I don't know...
"What happened?" the woman asked.
"You didn't see that mouse up on the sofa with us?" I responded, as I was putting on my shoes.
"No, I didn't. What are you doing? Where are you going?"
"I got to get the hell out of here!"
"Awww come on, I can't believe a grown ass man is scared of some field mice."
"Shit, I ain't scared of them, but what the fuck? What are they, your pets?" I asked as I reached for my coat.
"Come on, don't leave," she pleaded "We haven't even eaten yet."
Those were the last words I heard as I walked out the front door...
To read episode 1, click here
So I got invited to a female acquaintance's home to hang out and catch a Ravens game, just the two of us.When I came through the door, I could smell the aroma of a good meal wafting from the kitchen, and there were drinks and munchies on the living room table. "This is going to be good", I thought...
I settled in, grabbed a drink and some chips and got myself nice and comfy. The living room was nice and neat; outdated furniture, but everything was well-kept. The dining room, however, at least from what I could see, was a junkyard. Boxes, toys, a couple of bicycles, broken chairs, two or three TVs on the floor...just junk all over the place. I shook my head and kind of shrugged it off at first glance...but now as we were chilling and watching the game, a sight from that junky dining room caught my eye: a mouse running around and jumping in and out of boxes. Now I'm not afraid of mice, but like most everyone else, I hate them pesky little motherfuckers with a passion, and the sight of this particular little motherfucker cavorting around this woman's dining room like it was his personal playground was distracting the hell out of me. I briefly thought about saying something, but then thought the better of it, and instead just repositioned myself on the sofa to try to get the dining room out of my peripheral vision and to focus on the game.
Apparently I became a litte too focused a little on the game and not enough on my hostess, because at some point she got off the sofa, walked in front of the television, and started to do what I could only assume was intended to be a seductive dance, except that it was so bad that it was far more funny than sexy. As I sat there watching her - partly pissed because she was blocking my view of the game, and partly amused by this woman's spectactularly bad dancing - I was suddenly startled by a mouse zipping out of nowhere, zooming under the coffee table that was between the sofa where I was sitting and the TV in front of which the woman was standing.
I jumped in surprise, which in turn startled the woman, who apparently didn't notice the mouse. When I explained what happened, she laughed at my being scared of a "lil ol' field mouse". Before I could protest, she came back to the sofa and said, "give me a massage." Sheeeshh, can I just watch the game?
So she stretched out on the sofa, and I straddled her and began to massage her neck and back, while keeping an eye on the game. But even with my attention divided between the game and the massage, something didn't feel quite right; I had a feeling like someone or something was watching me. But I kept massaging and watching the game. Then when there was a timeout, I took my eyes of the TV and looked straight ahead...and there it was: another mouse, sitting up on the arm rest of the sofa, looking dead at me...
I jumped and yelled, the woman jumped and yelled in response, and mouse jumped and took off - where I don't know...
"What happened?" the woman asked.
"You didn't see that mouse up on the sofa with us?" I responded, as I was putting on my shoes.
"No, I didn't. What are you doing? Where are you going?"
"I got to get the hell out of here!"
"Awww come on, I can't believe a grown ass man is scared of some field mice."
"Shit, I ain't scared of them, but what the fuck? What are they, your pets?" I asked as I reached for my coat.
"Come on, don't leave," she pleaded "We haven't even eaten yet."
Those were the last words I heard as I walked out the front door...
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
"The Dating Game", episode 2 - "Nasty Girl"
To read episode 1, click here
I was driving on my way home from work during a heavy downpour, and I saw a mid-to-late-20s lady standing out on a bus stop trying in vain to protect herself and her child from the wind and rain. So, good guy that I am, I pulled over and offered them a ride, which she gladly accepted. The two of us had a very nice conversation as I drove her home; it turned out that she lived in an apartment complex a couple of blocks from me. When I pulled up in front of her building, it was still raining pretty hard, so we sat and talked some more until it let up.
Before getting out of the car, she asked me what I was doing later that night; when I said I had no plans, she said she had planned on going out, but her babysitting arrangement fell through, so she invited me to come and chill with her, maybe have a few drinks and watch some movies. Since I wasn't doing anything anyway, and we seemed to have a little chemistry between us, it was a no-brainer to accept the invitation.
So later that night I showed up at her place, after having stopped to pick us up something to eat and drink. She opened the door to her apartment, and it was DARK inside. I mean, can't see a damned thing dark. The only light at all was coming from the TV. She invited me in and took the stuff I bought to the kitchen while I staggered like a blind man towards the direction she told me the sofa was located. I figured she was trying to create some romantic vibe, but instead, it came off as kind of spooky or creepy, for some reason.
I found the sofa, and sat down, and she came in shortly after with our food and drinks and scooted next to me. We started watching whatever movie that was already in progress on cable, and settled in and ate and drank and enjoyed each other's company. When the movie ended, she excused herself to go and check on her son, and invited me to change the channel and find us something else to watch. I fumbled and groped around in the dark for the remote, then finally I said, "screw it", managed to find the switch to the table lamp, and turned on the lights...and then:
There were roaches...EVERYWHERE! Not just an isolated one here and there, but these lil' bastards were scurrying all around the room! I thought I was going to puke right then and there.
She comes rushing out to the living room to find me doing some contorted, twitching, spastic dance as I tried to figure out if anything was crawling on me. "Are you all right?" she asked.
"Uh, you got yourself a roach problem."
"Oh yeah, I know. I just had somebody come in and spray."
(Somebody already sprayed??? THEY ALREADY SPRAYED? Well, what the hell did it look like in here BEFORE the spraying? What are these, BEBE's roaches? -- "They don't die, they MULTIPLY!")
Needless to say, I was out the door in very short order. I got back to my place, stripped down, threw the clothes in the washing machine, took a loooong shower, and tried to forget the image of that creepy, crawly living room scene...
I was driving on my way home from work during a heavy downpour, and I saw a mid-to-late-20s lady standing out on a bus stop trying in vain to protect herself and her child from the wind and rain. So, good guy that I am, I pulled over and offered them a ride, which she gladly accepted. The two of us had a very nice conversation as I drove her home; it turned out that she lived in an apartment complex a couple of blocks from me. When I pulled up in front of her building, it was still raining pretty hard, so we sat and talked some more until it let up.
Before getting out of the car, she asked me what I was doing later that night; when I said I had no plans, she said she had planned on going out, but her babysitting arrangement fell through, so she invited me to come and chill with her, maybe have a few drinks and watch some movies. Since I wasn't doing anything anyway, and we seemed to have a little chemistry between us, it was a no-brainer to accept the invitation.
So later that night I showed up at her place, after having stopped to pick us up something to eat and drink. She opened the door to her apartment, and it was DARK inside. I mean, can't see a damned thing dark. The only light at all was coming from the TV. She invited me in and took the stuff I bought to the kitchen while I staggered like a blind man towards the direction she told me the sofa was located. I figured she was trying to create some romantic vibe, but instead, it came off as kind of spooky or creepy, for some reason.
I found the sofa, and sat down, and she came in shortly after with our food and drinks and scooted next to me. We started watching whatever movie that was already in progress on cable, and settled in and ate and drank and enjoyed each other's company. When the movie ended, she excused herself to go and check on her son, and invited me to change the channel and find us something else to watch. I fumbled and groped around in the dark for the remote, then finally I said, "screw it", managed to find the switch to the table lamp, and turned on the lights...and then:
"Awwwww, SHIT! What the fuck???"
She comes rushing out to the living room to find me doing some contorted, twitching, spastic dance as I tried to figure out if anything was crawling on me. "Are you all right?" she asked.
"Uh, you got yourself a roach problem."
"Oh yeah, I know. I just had somebody come in and spray."
(Somebody already sprayed??? THEY ALREADY SPRAYED? Well, what the hell did it look like in here BEFORE the spraying? What are these, BEBE's roaches? -- "They don't die, they MULTIPLY!")
Needless to say, I was out the door in very short order. I got back to my place, stripped down, threw the clothes in the washing machine, took a loooong shower, and tried to forget the image of that creepy, crawly living room scene...
Tune in again for another episode of "The Dating Game" on ANTV (Angry Nerd Television)...
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
"The Dating Game", Episode 1 - "Lock Down"
So I've been on my own for the last 10 years or so after over a decade and a half of "marital bliss" (I could take the time to calculate the percentage of blissful years versus the various stages of less-than-blissful, but I'm in a good mood today, so I don't feel like it). One thing I came to find out very early on was that the dating game these days is...whew, I don't even know what to call it...
So instead of trying to give it a name, I thought I'd occasionally pick one of my more "interesting" dating experiences and tell you about it...
Episode 1: "What had happened was..."
So I connected with this woman through an online personal ad. After the preliminary phone chats and picture exchanges, we decided we would get together. I threw out a few ideas for places to go for a first date, but she insisted on just meeting me at her apartment and hanging out there.
We met, talked, ate, listened to music, and had a great time, and over the next couple of weeks I came back several times to visit her and hang out. We never actually went out anywhere; we just spent time at her place, getting to know each other, and becoming more and more comfortable and cozy together.
Then one evening, things progressed beyond cozy to hot and heavy, and soon she was leading me by the hand to the bedroom. There she did a slow striptease; off with her t-shirt, followed by her bra. My eyes then moved downward as she slowly slid out of her pants, and then...wait - "what the hell is that???"
"That" was a ankle monitor on her left ankle (and for those of you who thought the surprise was higher up on her body, I can only say that if that were the case, I would not be telling this story - EVER)...
"Well, see what had happened was..." she started, and proceeded to tell a story of how her boyfriend was arrested for dealing drugs, and that because he had been using her car while doing some of his dirt, the car was seized and she was placed under house arrest.
"Well at least now I know why you never wanted to go out," I said.
"I know, I'm so sorry I didn't say anything before. Are you mad at me?"
Well, let's see: I have a naked woman standing in front of me who wants me to join her. Plus, she's a cheap date, because she can't go out anywhere...
"No, it's all right, I'm not mad."
So for the next few months I made regular "visits" to go see my house arrest girl. Then one day she called me and uttered these fateful words: "My boyfriend is coming home from jail." Well now...
Look, I'm not afraid of too many things, and I love a challenge, and I was certainly having fun with this woman, but did I like her enough to want to tangle with a newly released convict? Er...negative...Besides which, she referred to him as her "boyfriend", not an ex- or former boyfriend. and thinking back, she also called him "boyfriend" when she told me the whole story of how she ended up under house arrest. So basically I had just been um, filling in for him...
So we saw each other one last time, said our goodbyes, and off I rode into the sunset...
Tune in again for another episode of "The Dating Game" on ANTV (Angry Nerd Television)...
So instead of trying to give it a name, I thought I'd occasionally pick one of my more "interesting" dating experiences and tell you about it...
Episode 1: "What had happened was..."
So I connected with this woman through an online personal ad. After the preliminary phone chats and picture exchanges, we decided we would get together. I threw out a few ideas for places to go for a first date, but she insisted on just meeting me at her apartment and hanging out there.
We met, talked, ate, listened to music, and had a great time, and over the next couple of weeks I came back several times to visit her and hang out. We never actually went out anywhere; we just spent time at her place, getting to know each other, and becoming more and more comfortable and cozy together.
Then one evening, things progressed beyond cozy to hot and heavy, and soon she was leading me by the hand to the bedroom. There she did a slow striptease; off with her t-shirt, followed by her bra. My eyes then moved downward as she slowly slid out of her pants, and then...wait - "what the hell is that???"
"That" was a ankle monitor on her left ankle (and for those of you who thought the surprise was higher up on her body, I can only say that if that were the case, I would not be telling this story - EVER)...
"Well, see what had happened was..." she started, and proceeded to tell a story of how her boyfriend was arrested for dealing drugs, and that because he had been using her car while doing some of his dirt, the car was seized and she was placed under house arrest.
"Well at least now I know why you never wanted to go out," I said.
"I know, I'm so sorry I didn't say anything before. Are you mad at me?"
Well, let's see: I have a naked woman standing in front of me who wants me to join her. Plus, she's a cheap date, because she can't go out anywhere...
"No, it's all right, I'm not mad."
So for the next few months I made regular "visits" to go see my house arrest girl. Then one day she called me and uttered these fateful words: "My boyfriend is coming home from jail." Well now...
Look, I'm not afraid of too many things, and I love a challenge, and I was certainly having fun with this woman, but did I like her enough to want to tangle with a newly released convict? Er...negative...Besides which, she referred to him as her "boyfriend", not an ex- or former boyfriend. and thinking back, she also called him "boyfriend" when she told me the whole story of how she ended up under house arrest. So basically I had just been um, filling in for him...
So we saw each other one last time, said our goodbyes, and off I rode into the sunset...
Tune in again for another episode of "The Dating Game" on ANTV (Angry Nerd Television)...
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