Inadvertently Single on the Northside

Both the details of being single and living on the Northside are kind of irrelevant to these stories. I just wanted to use that title.
No one has actually inquired if I’m single. In fact, one special gent insisted that I was not single, no matter how vehemently I (or anyone else) denied it, but we’ll get to that later. The fact that it occurs on the northside is also pretty irrelevant, as there tend to be drunk fools almost anywhere.

The only way the title is actually relevant is that all of the words contained within it are factually accurate. I was inadvertently single. I was on the northside.

Drunk fools #1 and #2:
One recent night, two drunk men approached my roommate and me. After some very drunk chatting, the chatter-upper of my roommate reaches across her to grab my left arm upon which I have a tattoo of the moon blowing stars around my arm. He looks at my tattoo, then at me and asks very seriously, “Are you a Vice Lord?”
To which I chuckled, “Do I look like I’m a Vice Lord?”

At this point, I turned to his friend, my chatter-upper, and ask, “Is that a line?…. Is that a good line?”
He just shook his head with that kind of slow-motion headshake that one reserves for the very saddest of sad things.

I don’t know if the headshake was because I’m so not a gangster or if the headshake was because chatter-upper/drunk fool #2  was in the middle of passionately telling me about how a visit to Augie’s ‘would change my life.’
Frankly, I’m more sold by Augie’s  attempts to secure a reality show than drunk fool #2’s pitch.

Drunk fool #3 and his unfortunate big brother:
The bar was pretty empty, so I suspect that drunk fool #3 approached us primarily out of lack of options.

I was able to convince drunk fool #3 to abandon his shitty beer for something slightly more beer-like. Grain Belt, I think. He claimed it tasted like earwax.

I never got a satisfactory answer about why he was so familiar with taste of earwax.

Eventually, my roommate and I got suckered into playing pool. Drunk fool #3 was my partner, and though I had warned him that I suck at pool, we played.

Sure enough, I sucked. But drunk fool #3’s positivity couldn’t be stifled. Every shitty shot earned a high-five and praise.

I give him an “A” for positive bullshit. If we could have won based on that alone, we certainly would have. His big brother and my roommate kicked our asses pretty thoroughly with actual pool talent.

Drunk fool #4:
Ballsy but misguided, drunk fool #4 sat down at the booth with a friend and I, whilst my roomie ran off to sing “Baby Got Back.” Regardless the intensity of denial, he proceeded to insist that my roommate and I were a couple. That was all very entertaining until he looked at the both of us and decided that “she’s the man.”

I’m like, “So let me get this straight: In this hypothetical relationship you’ve concocted for us, you’ve looked at the both of us and decided she’s the butch one?”
To which he replied, “Yes.”

The sad part is that I was genuinely offended by this.
As I stood up to walk away, he says, “I lust you.”

“Huh?” I responded, because not only did he not know how to use the word properly, it’s just how roughly 75% of the conversation had gone.
Then he said louder, “I lust you. Lust. You know this word?”
“Yeah,” I said, “I’m an English teacher. I know words sometimes.”

Anticlimactic end: Then I walked away and went to smoke with my “lesbian lover.”

Dredging the Lake

Match is at it again, dredging the depths of their vast testosterone inventory to find only the most suitable suitors for me.

Here are a couple of gems.

Meet chu1010

Of all the unfortunate (and rather appropriate) places to prematurely end a sentence, this man has it nailed. Don’t worry, Meet chu1010, I am less likely to want to shoot you and more likely to want to shoot myself in wherever it is that stores my short-term memories and processes visual images.

Thanks, Match.

Winona341

Of all the shitty matches Match has deemed fit for me, this one may take the cake. This one says, “There is no actual process. This is all just as random as real world you get to live in for free – complete with advertising in all corners.”

Good news: This scam and I are a good match because “he” is “athletic and toned”.

Hot Mess: Volume 11

In general, I have pretty high self-esteem, some might even call it “cockiness.”
Semantics.

I know I’m not all that painful on the eyes. I’m pretty witty, laidback, self-sufficient, and low-maintenance. Also, I could probably kick your ass. This is, perhaps, why I’m perpetually the best friend with whom people really SHOULD be in love, but… There’s always a big “but”…

I’m also aware that many women do not carry themselves with or feel the same sense of confidence that I do. Which is why this is such a terrible first message.

It’s a fucking virtual head pat.

This message says:

  • You seem nice. Too bad your life blows.
  • I’m not quite sure why no-one wants you, but there must be a reason.
  • You seem hot, so you must be crazy.
  • I don’t understand why cupid keeps making you gargle his sweaty balls. You seem cool enough to me.

To add to the low blow, one knows it’s from someone who’s in exactly the same position, someone who thinks he’s a pretty good catch, despite the fact that he’s fictionally 92 years old and who has many interests not limited to, but including, women between the ages of 18 and 45.

Nothing says, “I’m just looking for a someone with (semi)functioning female parts” like a thirty year age range.
Don’t give me any of that, “Age is just a number” bullshit. No one says that or believes it except teenage girls who think they’re in love with guys old enough to buy them liquor, child molesters, old rich guys with trophy wives, and the gold-diggers waiting for them to die.

This message is only a confirmation for my “fuck it” inclination. Until my membership runs out, Match’s sole purpose is for providing me with entertainment while I get matched with myself and heal from their previous “matches”.

One of us thought it was hilarious. Sorry it wasn’t you.

Initial contact summary: Hey, we should meet. Yes, we should. Silence, extended for a month or so.

Ditto for second contact summary including silence, extended.

Third contact (unabridged)
Observe the dates.

Prior to sending this message, I thought that either this dude will find this hi-larious or he’ll be pissed. Either way, I shall have some sort of conclusive decision.

At this point, my dear friend “J” un-friended me on the book-o’-face and subsequently blocked me. In the grand scheme of my internet dating and relationships, I’m going to credit that as a successful closure.

Hot Mess: Volume 6

I’m going to start with a grand ol’ “What the fuck?” on this here beauty, starting with this dapper fellow’s facial hair stylings.

I’m pretty sure that this is the portion of my profile to which this  fine gentleman is responding. You see, I have a strong aversion to the utterly pointless and creepy cyber winking that Match advertises as flirty and as “communication”.

I’m not exactly sure what he’s implying by, “if that’s the kind of students you have, you prolly met someone like me b4.” Kids whose “hienies” get molested by old ladies with lots of rings? Students who are old ladies? I’m at a loss.

“Rick T. THE GREAT. est technician that ever lived. lol.” is “too smart for anyone to figure out.”
Go figure. He got me figured out right quick. I’m oil. I am also a woman, so it’s best to find out what’s for dinner.

I’d also be willing to wager that the cigarettes in his pocket are Winners…that or Marlboro lights. Ick to the tenth power.

Consolation prize: I have “nice grammar”.

Re-Emergency: or fuck you, fuck you, you’re pretty cool, and fuck you

A couple months ago I had a revelation that the only reason I was even attempting to still date was because I had paid for a service, and I didn’t want that to go to waste. It took a long time for it to dawn on my that not wasting money was a very stupid reason to keep putting myself through the same bullshit – lather, rinse, repeat. So I made a deal with myself that I would take a last stab in the dark and then quit.
Stab status: Fail.

My journey toward contentment must have caused a great disturbance in the force as men from my past seemed to gather and decide it was time to reemerge into my text message inbox and psyche. I’ll spare you the whole story of who and why and wherefore I might have met them. Instead, I will share some fun-nuggets (ironically, made out of shit).

All names have been changed to arbitrary characters or blurred to protect the ignorant from friends who would consider punching them in the face.


Fuck You: Chapter 1 (Abridged)

Once upon a time (in November of last year) I traveled across the country to visit a man for a long weekend. During this long weekend, I saw this man one time for about three hours. He backed out of plans twice. I flew home and was forgotten at the airport. I took an expensive cab ride home. The end?

No, of course not.

Prince Charming: 12.11, 9:15 pm – hi… I miss u.
Me: I don’t really see how that’s possible. You hardly saw me.
Prince Charming: 12.11, 9:46 pm – i know, but…. I like u. wish u would have stayed longer.

Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot?

But wait, there’s more!

He hit up the facebook inbox.

And then, the facebook wall.


Fuck You: Chapter 2

The first disappearance of Idiot A.

5.08, 2:20 am – Hi there…it’s late.
5.08, 2:30 am – …you wouldn’t happen to be up now would ya?
5.09, 2:37 am – Journey rules!
5.13, 3:32 am – Hello.
5.13, 3:33 am – I. Need. To. Get. Outta. Here.
5.13, 4:42 am – Nighnught
5.13, 3:20 pm – Sorry about the post-work celebratory texting. I think my final went swimmingly.

The second coming of Idiot A.

6.12, 2:49 am – So…I really miss hanging out with you. I realize yr probably done or need a better explanation, which I’d share if you’d like….calculas is kicking my ass.
6.12, 11:40 am – I know “busy” doesn’t really cut it (even though I was with finals and then a family trip to TN) but I really would like to! I like the cut of your jib, kid, ya got moxy.

The third disappearance of Idiot A.

8.31, 10:41 pm – Hey pretty stranger. How ya been?
After silence – 8.31, 10:58 pm – You present a valid point. Sorry to bother you. Just wondered how you were.
8.31, 11:35 pm – …at the risk of sounding redundant, I think it would be really great to study with you sometime. I just think you’re pretty cool and would rather there not be bad blood and/or weirdness…

The appearance of Idiot B: Played by myself

9.1 – Idiot B actually hung out with this dude again. Haven’t heard from him since and would be willing to make bets that I won’t for at least thirty days.

 

Fuck You: Chapter 3 (Abridged)

Conversation highlights:

Me: Might I ask why the sudden re-interest?
Dude: I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been hitting on you pretty hardcore for a while now.
Me: I don’t know if I would say “hardcore” unless by “hardcore” you mean that you talk to me when I happen to be in your general vicinity.
….
Me: No, but really why are you back now?

Wait for it…

Dude: Your hips. (He goes on to explain why he likes my hips and others like or unlike them.)

At this point I was kind of waiting for him to go on with other reasons – maybe something related to a quality that I have more control over or more pride in, but, apparently, that was it.

Unsolicited advice: If you are struggling to name some good qualities of mine, ask me. I’ve known and liked myself for most of my life.

After this evening of “bliss,” he was really interested for about a week which roughly mirrored his first period of intense interest. After that he no longer seemed to acknowledge my existence while in the same place (except once), which, apparently, is the opposite of hitting on me “pretty hardcore.”


Finalists for the “You’re Pretty Cool” Category:

Bachelor #1: Drinks too much.
Bachelor #2: Lives in another state.

Hot Mess: Volume 2

 

One of the things that frustrates me most about online dating is that so many of the profiles I encounter (as is true for Hot Mess #2)  could be summarized in the following manner.

I like going out and staying in. I’m hard working, but also laid back. I like my family and friends. I also like stuff and things.

Where to start with Hot Mess #2?
Eh, let’s go with the beginning.

  • “Daylites burning!” Daylite: Is that some sort of shitty cousin to Partylite?
  • “Im a very nice person that is looking for a person that also is nice and considerate.”
    Funny. I never see the profile that says, “I’m kind of a dick. So I’m looking for someone who will tolerate me.” Errr, sorry…I mean, “Im kind of a dick that is looking for someone that is willing to tolerate me.”
  • “I’m quite confident you won’t be disapointed.” They say confidence is sexy, but it kind of loses its touch when it follows the sentence, “Anyway, I can tell you more if you are interested, just please let me know if I seem to spark your interest!”
    ! = universal sign for “I’m begging you. Fucking. Please!”
  • “Im a hard working, kinda old fashioned guy that is looking for someone to share my life and the things I have with, and experience the things she has as part of her life.”
    I’m not even going to take the time to go all English teacher on that sentence. But “share my life and the things I have with”? What are we talking about? Herpes? His nail clipping collection? It’s kind of like the opposite of a Valtrex commercial. But come on, what could possibly be more intimate than sharing herpes?
  • A PSA: Guys, you never-fucking-ever put in your profile that you play video games even IF you qualify it with “sometimes” or a “few.”  You automatically conjure up the gamer stereotype – greasy, hasn’t showered in a week, and very, very white.

This eligible bachelor was among one of the first people on Match to make me talk to my computer (who was unwittingly standing in for Hot Mess #2).
The conversation went something like this:

Me: What the fuck is wrong with you? Did you even read my profile?
Computer/Hot Mess #2: (Silence)
Me: CAN you read my profile?
Computer/Hot Mess #2: (Silence)
Me: What the fuck is wrong with people?
Computer/Hot Mess #2: (Silence)

Some fist shaking may or may not have occurred at this point. But a girl’s gotta have some secrets…

Hot Mess: Volume 1

 

Rycon 517 was the first man to prompt me to use command, shift, 4. He sent me a message that I no longer have stored in either my inbox or my memory, so it is safe to assume that it was about as engaging as his profile.

Some things you may want to note:

  • The headline: “New and Adventurous ! : )” as demonstrated by his (only) profile pic outside of the Mall of (fucking) America (or MOFA for short) to which he gives a familiar shout out in his “Favorite Hot Spots” section.
  • If I was not already sold on this 31 year-old SWM’s sense of novelty and adventure, he drew me in with, “I won’t get off on a rant (space). I’m just a simple guy and enjoy simple thing (space). Sometimes I can be elaborite (space).” “Elaborite” like sometimes he likes to “go all out” on that extra pair of new, still soft sweatpants.
  • Rycon 517 continues writing that he is “always up for something new that I haven’t tried yet and go some place I have never been (fucking space).” “Something new” like sex, for example, but not like jacking off in the bathrooms at MOFA after seeing a particularly risque mannequin.
  • The closing line may be his best. “Perhaps you can show me something ‘NEW'”
    Is that a challenge? In hindsight, I should have sent him a link for diaper porn.