Out of Bounds

Everyone has their deal breakers. He's not funny, he's unemployed, he sits cross-legged on the couch, he only asks you out via text message.

Whatever the reason, the more superficial it is, the less interested you already were before discovering this tidbit about him. You can't be that into a guy if he *gasp* ties his sweater around his waist and you immediately feel like you're 13 and going to the movies with your parents; your eyes constantly darting around the theater hoping your crush isn't sitting two rows back with Becky, that slut who just got her braces off and grew into her training bra overnight.


Anyway, a big no-no for me is when a guy has no idea of boundaries. I think when you're first getting to know someone, you should be aware of boundaries and want to make the other person feel comfortable. Especially if you're a guy. 

Which is why I didn't even reply to Ricky Martin when he invited me to his condo for our FIRST meeting, to cook me dinner and have some wine on his rooftop. Easy Ted Bundy. We haven't even met yet and you want me in your home?


Well, apparently everyone's living la vida loca, because when I asked the 28-year-old salesman/swimmer what he wanted to do on our first date, he said "Hopcat and hot tub." Hopcat being his favorite bar, hot tub being the one in his hotel where he was staying during a recent business trip. Ew. Ew ew ew ew ew.

So I asked our Traveling Salesman if he was kidding, to which he replied, "I was.....but I would if you wanted to."

I politely stopped replying to his emails, and moved on to greener, less sleazy pastures.

What's New Pussycat?

After chatting back and forth with two new guys, I decided it was time to share my phone number with each of them so we could make a date. Correction: dates. This is not an episode of Elimidate.

The problem? They have the same first name. And I don’t know either of their last names. They’re both 27 and live in my city. So when the first one calls, how on earth am I going to know which one it is?

When he says, “Hey it’s Chris,” how does one reply in that situation? “Which one?” “Chris who?” Cause then he’ll just reply, “Slut!” and slam the phone down. (Do people slam phones down anymore? I guess he’d just vehemently push the End button on his cell.)

I do know one Chris loves running, but I can’t be all, “Get any good runs in lately?” and he’s all, “I’m allergic to running,” and I’m all, “Ahhhh haha! Just pulling your chain.”

Chris 1 is the boy from Boston I mentioned a few weeks ago. I keep thinking of my aforementioned love for Mark Wahlberg, so he’ll be Marky Mark. Chris 2 is an engineer who lives downtown. His profile says he’s Hispanic, so naturally we’ll call him Ricky Martin.

So should I just make plans with each, and show up not knowing who I’m going to see?

Perhaps I’m on to something here. Maybe from now on I should only date guys with the same name. I’ll be like those serial daters who call every girl they go out with Babe so they never slip up.

Except I refuse to walk around with my shirt unbuttoned to my navel, wearing a gold chain.