What Was I Thinking?

One more flashback on this last day of 2010. Oh how far we've come, friends. Happy New Year to all...don't do anything/anyone stupid tonight. But, if you do do something/someone stupid tonight, make sure you tell me all about it.

P.S. New Year's Steve is in town. Oh me, oh my.

X-Rated

So last night I was chatting with Dick Butkus online and all was going decently well. Until he asked me what I look for in a man.

Well apparently I think I'm quite the comedian, because I replied, "Confidence, a sense of humor and a huge bank account."

However, I didn't realize the dating site x's out words it deems inappropriate. And I have no idea who does the deeming, because my message popped up on both of our screens like this:

"Confidence, a sense of humor and a huge xxxx xxxxxxx."

By the time I looked up and realized what had just happened, he was typing.

"Huge what?" he asked.

Oh my gosh I could only imagine what he was imagining. I stared at those 11 x's trying to figure out if there was a dirty phrase that fit. Huge...man cannon. Huge...twig and berries. Huge...trouser snake? He probably thinks I'm this Internet sex pervert who was just cutting to the chase.

With the press of the Enter button I'd inadvertently turned this light and airy convo into a NC-17 porn fest.

I tried to explain that what I said wasn't inappropriate and I wasn't sure why it had been bleeped out.

Unfortunately, when they didn't bleep out his message when he said "shit" in a sentence, it didn't really help my case. If they let shit fly, what smut did he think my little fingers were typing out?

I laughed it off, but I was red in the face. I know I tried to explain myself, but he'll always wonder what dirty filth I really said.

I made a huge xxx of myself.

What Was I Thinking?

As I continue to review the year in dating (aka laying around eating Christmas cookies and drinking wine with the fam), I found this gem from June.


Aunt Jemima

The other day my mother told me that I'm flipping men like pancakes.

Well. I'm pretty confident that she'd move on from the guys I've dated lately as well. Take Mr. Nice Guy?. We only hung out twice, but in the time we spent together I'm pretty sure he went....#2...three times. Unless he was redoing the wallpaper in there.

Act 1 Scene 1: we’re having drinks on our first date, when he exits stage left to use the restroom. So I call my Dad, chat for a bit, then throw a few darts by myself, pretend to care about the soccer game on TV, refill my beer, and finally just sit down and zone out. By now it’s been a bit of time and I’m wondering where on earth this kid is, but I’m having fun so I don’t want to assume he’s doing THAT.

Then, we’re hanging out with his friends, enjoying some pepperoni thin crust and playing Wii, when he quietly exits the room. For all I know he’s in his room blogging about how crazy I am, because he doesn’t tip toe back into the room for several minutes. And I swear I caught a tiny whiff of something foul. It’s just natural. He’s a sweet guy. Maybe he had McDonald’s for lunch.

By the third time, I’m realizing my new friend needs to rethink whatever he’s putting in his body. We’re at my friend’s condo getting ready to head to the game, and shocker! He shuffles into my friend’s bathroom, which is right off the kitchen. The rest of us are getting our stuff together, placing glasses in the dishwasher, tossing the leftover appetizers, putting the wine in the fridge. And he’s STILL in there. All I can think about is the burrito he ate before our date that night.

Finally twinkle toes comes out of the bathroom and closes the door behind him. And I’m staring at him thinking, Hey Poopy Pants, there's a time and a place.

He did say he wants to go into gastroenterology, so maybe he's down with the bowel movements. I get that it's part of life, I did grow up with two brothers, but it's a little early in the game to be getting so cozy with the toilet seat when I'm on the other side of the door.

Anyway, I've been emailing with a cute Bostonian and he asked if I'd want to meet for coffee sometime so I just sent him my number. Perhaps it's my long-standing thing for Matt Damon and Mark Wahlberg, but the idea of a Boston guy seems exciting.

How you like them apples?

What Was I Thinking?

As the year comes to a close, I took a look at some of my old posts. After 30 minutes of cringing, I decided to pull some pieces so we can all reminisce and ask the same question. Seriously, WHAT was I thinking?

Exhibit A:

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.