I'm sitting in a dark room with strangers listening to The Mountain. "The Hardest Thing" is playing right now. Ugh.
They don't even know I am here. To be fair, this is a better way to spend my time than sitting with my feelings at home. I can at least interact with others on a superficial level and possibly learn something new.
I feel like how it looks outside today.
PLENTY OF FISH I started talking about some of the crazies I dated and wanted to circle back to Bachelor Number 1. We'll call him PLENTY OF FISH (POF) because I met him on the dating site. First rule of thumb--dating sites are the WORST. Don't do it. The men on there are gross. They lie about everything and seem to be seeing multiple people at once. So, POF was a mistake from the get-go, but I was lonely and I thought what the heck. Found out he was also seeing a hasher friend of mine, Dowell Rod, and when she found out, well, it was not pretty. Small Town Dating. Incestuous.
I guess I could also call him Pratfall or Pornpal.
We disagreed fundamentally on a lot of things. It was tumultuous and there were frequent breakups. Growing up with parents who smoked, the thought of dating someone who did was non-negotiable. It doesn't matter how many times you brush your teeth, you taste like an ashtray. But profiles lie. About so many things.
Dealbreakers for me: drugs, cigarette smoking and porn. Why didn't I question those "watch later" shower videos on youtube?
If that is your lifestyle and you are into that, cool. Just be honest on your profile. I'm sure there are plenty of women who would be into all of those things-- just not me.
He told me his first sexual encounter was a three-way. And his brother, who sounded like a bully, (later I learned big bro had schizophrenia) got POF high right before taking the SAT. At restaurants he would take napkins and wrap up any leftover food, rolls, chips, whatever and make me put them in my purse for him. He had 2 boys who pretty much lived with mom, as she kept the house, but on the few occasions she would leave town, he would stay with them in the house-- IN THEIR OLD BED. Am I crazy to think that is messsed up? When I saw he was talking to multiple people at once, I confronted, he denied. I could go on, but I think you get the guy by now.
One weekend he left his Maker's Mark in my freezer. After a Sunday rehearsal, I paid him a visit bringing his whiskey back and hoping that we could spend some time together. He knew I would be getting in touch after rehearsal, however I didn't call first. I was in the neighborhood, so why not? I knock on the door. No answer. His car is there, so I cross to the side door. I knock again, and try the handle. Unlocked.
I call in and no answer. So I enter, thinking something must be serously wrong. Well, it was wrong as he was jerking off to a video. I screamed, and opened the mostly full plastic bottle of Maker's Mark and dumped it all over him. Oh, I forgot, when I pulled the sheet back to reveal his actions, he grabbed my wrist with his lotioned hand. Gross.
Running to the car, tears in my eyes, I vowed to never go on a dating site again.
I laughed and cried about it on the way home- it was pretty stupid what I did. But hilarious too. Funny thing about living here. You can avoid running into ex's pretty reliabily--at least I do. Especially if they are creatures of habit and you don't live on the same side of town. They become complete strangers. Like we should have been the whole time.
Strangers. Who should have never met.
No comments:
Post a Comment