Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Rollin with my gnomies

I love internet dating. Some people really abhor it but I can't understand why. I may or may not meet the man of my dreams online. I'm not worried. If nothing else it makes for great laughs with my friends and family.

So I get on to check my email and I have a new message from the dating site that I am using.

"My name is Gnomie. I am X years old. I am attractive, funny, and outgoing. Hey I couldn't upload more than 3 pics because you took up all the space. I was looking at your photos and you like the pittsburgh steelers. I don't care but why do you like the steelers? I noticed you liked doing guy things such as football, baseball basketball, hockey, and shooting pool. Are you sure you are not a guy in disguise? You are on here to meet someone and so am I. Email me back and we will see where it goes from there.
Gnomie"

WTF?! You insulted me thru that entire message. First with how many pictures I had up. Then with my choice of sports teams. Then with some of the things I like. I guess you didn't read the part where I talked about the girly stuff that I liked. Seriously. His profile is even better.

"I have a confession to make. I am such a typical sports guy that i actually get on my jersey. When I watch the game I hold the ball in my lap. If we end up together please schedule spa visits, shoe shopping, or male bashing with girlfriends during important tv sporting events. It will make both of our lives better. No crazy women please."

This week isn't a good week for me. There is a lot going on and I am feeling a little bitchy. I was telling one of my girl friends about Gnomie and how I wanted to reply with something. She came up with this:

Dear Gnomie,
I was going to ingore this but I thought that I would offer you some friendly
advice. You are never going to get a girl, or at least one worth a damn if you
talk to them like that. You are presumptous and rude. Not all girls feel the need to go shoe shopping and go to the spa. I would rather sit there and cheer for my team. And as for the Steelers, I do not care if you care or not who I root for. I have a lot of pride in my hometown team, not something a lot of people can say about the Bengals. And really...a ball in your lap? Why? That is just weird. You are definitly not half as cool as you think you are. Good luck meeting someone, you are going to need it."

I will, of course, send something a little nicer and shorter. I don't think that even I could be that mean. But seriously. What is wrong with the men in the Cincinnati area!?

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Rockin' out with your (insert 4 letter word that rhymes with rock that makes you think of a rooster) out

So this happened about a week ago or so but I have been laughing so hard that I couldn't type until now.

I meet yet another victim guy using an online dating site. He is cute, tall, seems to like a lot of the same things that I like, and is the definition of a good old boy. Our conversations (on his end) are peppered with words like gal, fellar, ya'll and darlin. It's kind of endearing but every time I heard one of these words it would make me giggle to myself. Oh by the way since he was a good old boy and needed a nickname he was dubbed Freebird; which becomes more and more appropriate the longer we talk.

So right off the bat he tells me that he is going to be honest with me. All I can think is Lord, what now? Every time someone tells me they want to be honest with me they tell me something creepy. So he starts talking about this girl that he met online who is being all crazy and stalking him and about jumped his bones the first time they met. Nice. I care because why? That's right I don't. He isn't interested in her so Freebird asks me how to get rid of her. I tell him to tell her that she isn't right for him as a girlfriend and she would be better off just accepting the fact that they could be friends but nothing more.

So we continue to talk some more; both on the phone and through text messages. He opens up right away about his life. He has had some hard times and some bitchy ex's let me tell you. His friend died last year and his gf at the time told him to get over it (cold). He made some stupid mistakes and lost his job at a guitar store (he plays and gives lessons) and wrecked his car. I'm feeling really sorry for the kid and kind of thinking that maybe we would be better off as friends because of all his baggage. He really seemed like a nice guy. At this point we had made a date for Thursday night. On Wednesday he told me the story that clinched the deal.

Freebird had been out drinking and drove himself home (aren't there any non-heavy drinkers out there that want to date me?). He admits it was a stupid mistake. Even dumber that he crashed his Camaro and left it in the ditch and walked the rest of the way home to sleep it off. Well an abandoned car in a ditch attracts cops like flies to sugar. The popo run the plates and show up at Freebird's house where he is roused from bed by his parents to go meet the cops outside. He is in nothing but his pj’s (which is a pair of boxers) when he goes out to meet them. He walks outside and the cops take one look at him and go "Excuse me, Mr. Freebird, we are going to need you to put that away." I start laughing so hard at this point in the story that I am crying. Seriously. Wouldn't you think to check to make sure that your junk is where it is supposed to be before talking to the cops? He goes on to tell me that his license is suspended now because of the whole incident and that I would have to come pick him up the next day for our date. I don't think so.

So it's now date day and I am stressing. I'm trying to figure out a nice way to tell Freebird that I can't go out with him anymore because I'm getting away from dating losers. I ask everyone's opinion and come up with a semi-true, quasi-safe answer. That I think it would be better that we just be friends. And in case he still wanted to go out after that that I was working late that night due to an error that was found at the last minute. He tells me ok and that’s the last I hear from him that day. At this point I don’t even want to be friends with him. To be my friend you have to have a car and a license. It’s a new rule of mine that I’ve had for the past few years now.

A few days later I’m sitting at home and get a text message from Freebird saying “gal, you ought to let a fellar take you out to dinner.” I delete it. Two days later I get another text that is along the same lines as the last one. Seriously? Didn’t you get the hint? I don’t want to talk to you. I know it was lame of me to not answer but I didn’t want to string him along anymore than I think I already did.

Friday, February 1, 2008

And the SAG Award goes to...

So earlier this week I am out to dinner with a friend and on my way home my phone starts beeping. It's a text message from none other than, drum roll please, Jason Bateman. You have got to be kidding me. He stood me up last week. It's almost a full week later and now he has the audicity to talk to me? Here is the conversation that ensued.

JB: How r u darling?
Me: so what happened last week?
JB: What r u talking about? Not sure that was meant 4 me

He called me darling. I hate that. So now I think that he has me confused with someone else. There is no way he is this stupid. He blew me off and is acting like nothing ever happened.

Me: Who is this?
JB: Excuse me? Um, Jason Bateman
Me: We were supposed to go out to dinner last tuesday but you never called and said where we were going.
JB: Ok, learn who u r talking to, ok?

Seriously. Don't take an attitude with me. I didn't do anything wrong. I'm thinking that I'm going to be done talking to him now but do it in the nicest way possible.

Me: I think you have the wrong number. Sorry. :)
JB: Ur rite, my bad, Cincy
Me: Look. I called and texted you last week to find out where we were supposed to meet at 730 for dinner on tuesday and you never got back to me. Check your voicemail.

I'm sorry if you were busy with the Sundance Film Festival and the SAG Awards but call a girl back. Or don't make plans at all. I will mention briefly that I dropped Harley's movie off at his place of employment before he got in so I didn't have to see him and so that he stopped texting me. (It's not that I can't be in the same place as him at all. I can be. But it's going to be mighty hard not to kick him in his shins.) He actually texted me and asked how I was doing and if I was dating. Sure I am. His name is Noneya. Noneya Business. I've just been ignoring his messages.
We are not friends, nor will we ever be friends again. Friends don't leave friends inebriated at the bar when they have promised to be your ride home. Ass Hat.