The Hyena

If you had asked me a month ago, a week ago even, whether a laugh could be a deal-breaker for me, I would have absolutely said 'no'. Because, someone would have to be really shallow to judge a person on their laugh. Let me repeat : I would have said 'no'... before I met "The Hyena".


John and I met from my favourite site, Plenty Of Freaks. And I foolishly went into our date hopeful that my Prince Charming would be waiting for me. Instead, I ended up waiting for him because he showed up 30 minutes late. I might have left if he hadn't been incredibly handsome and super apologetic. The conversation was pretty good, and I was impressed, when halfway through the date, John asked me if I was free later in week to meet up again. Obviously this was a no-nonsense, straight-to-the-point kind of guy. So, I agreed.


Date number two took place at his condo, despite my father's protests when he cornered me before leaving. "A real man wouldn't invite you over for a second date," he warned. "He's no man of integrity!" So, maybe I should have listened to my over-protective father. It would have saved me from the wretched date that followed. But, I suppose, I would have nothing to type for you all today.

John's condo was beautiful. A two-story loft, spacious, modernly decorated. He even had a coffee table with an open flame swirling fire pit in the middle. I was very impressed. So we drove to the movie store and rented the film 'Get Him To The Greek'. I'm a big fan of comedies and I assumed it would be good for a laugh or two. I was wrong.


We got back to John's mind-blowing loft, snuggled up on the couch with some hot cocoa and some cheesecake. I was priding myself in going on date two, despite my dad's protests. But then the movie started, and so the funny started.... and so the laughing started.


Words cannot describe the noises that came from this handsome guy's mouth. The only way I can describe it is that he must be half hyena. Short, high-pitched shrieks, echoed off the walls. It was so ear-piercing that I actually had to check if my ears were bleeding. And if you have not yet seen 'Get Him To The Greek', it is hilarious, making my date all the more painful. I sat there, with him pulling me close beside him, and desperately wished that we had rented anything else. 'Schindler's List' would have been perfect. Why, oh why, did I not pick that off the shelf?


The night ended awkwardly. Part of me wanted to help the poor, handsome hyena man by telling him about his awful laugh. But then he may never laugh again... And maybe there is some part hyena woman roaming the streets, looking for her soul mate. So I left, I ignored his texts, and I haven't looked back. And I will never, ever, take a guy's normal laugh for granted again. All future dates can thank "The Hyena" for that.

The Stalker

In the last six days I feel like I have been through a first date, a marriage, and a divorce... all with one guy. Whom I met last Thursday.


Our first date was fairly promising. He was one of those "perfect on paper" guys. An engineer, tall, could play the guitar, close with his family, etc. All those things that make your ears perk up as a single lady. So I went into our first date at a local ice cream shop more optimistic than usual. The conversation was fairly good, he was fairly handsome, and it ended with a fairly good kiss. So, I opted to go for a second date.


But before our second date could occur (4 days later) I was bombarded with texts from him every few minutes, phone calls "just to say hi" a few times a day, and basically felt like I was being smothered by an obsessive stalker.  This guy literally went from sweet to stalker in less than 24 hours. 


I got a bit concerned when he decided he was taking me on our second date to a five star restaurant. I thought from ice cream we could maybe work our way up to... I don't know, Pizza Hut? But, no he insisted upon fine dining. I don't know about anyone else, but I don't like a guy spending tons of money early on, because if I figure out that I'm NOT into him, then I feel like there is some sense of obligation because he wined and dined me. And that is exactly what happened.

I showed up, and he immediately went in for the kiss on the lips. Umm, I don't think so, buddy. Just because we shared one kiss doesn't mean that you get those privileges all the time now. Then, at the dinner table, he kept longingly gazing at me like I was his long lost lover and he had just returned from war. The night got increasingly worse as he "couplefied" everything. Leg caresses on city bus, pulling me in to nuzzle on the couch, so tightly that my neck started to cramp, oh, and an invite to his brother's wedding. That was in two weeks. I wanted to scream out "I'm not your girlfriend! It's a second date for God's sake!" But, I didn't.


Instead, I ended the night by faking a headache, and I ended all interaction with him today after he continued to bombard me with texts and phone calls like a psychopath. I'm not even kidding... he would call before bed, then text me after we talked, then text me before my alarm went off the next morning, to find out what? What I dreamed about? If I had to get up in the night to go pee? Like, seriously! Only so much can happen to one person through the middle of a Tuesday night. 


Anyway, I cut all ties this afternoon and gave him some pointers about coming on a little less strong in the future. Cause sweet is nice, but there is nothing sexy about stalker.

Pick Up Trick #1

I realize that I basically just talk about my dating horror stories on here, but I would like to think that I can offer my cyber lady friends advice in other departments too. So, today I'm talking about a colour: PINK.


For the past week I have been sporting some new Barbie pink lipstick out and about. I felt sort of silly the first time I wore it, like I was out of some cheesy 80's aerobics video, but I cannot tell you the amount of winks, smiles, and lingering gazes that I got from men of all ages. I'm telling you, my pink pouter was like a vortex for any unsuspecting male passerby.

So I've started wearing Barbie pink lipstick everywhere now. Grocery shopping, the gym, the doctors office, picking up the mail, putting out the garbage. You name it, and I've got it on.


I also added a hot pink workout shirt to my wardrobe and it was an instant smash. So my latest purchase was some hot pink nail polish which I just put on, as I type with my nails still tacky.


Anyway, maybe I just looked particularly good this past week, or maybe, just maybe men have some magnetic attraction to the colour pink. So if you're looking to pick up this coming week, pucker up and go pink.


-CQ

Lowered Expectations

The other night I came home from a mediocre date (not one worth blogging about) to find my most recent ex had changed his relationship status on Facebook from 'single' to 'in a relationship'. There is something so incredibly irritating about that little heart icon when it's beside the name of someone you used to sleep with. A little taunting heart saying you have officially been replaced.


However, I have a strategy for whenever I'm missing an ex by simply focusing on all of his little flaws that I used to overlook because I loved him. In this case, I thought about my ex's increasingly quick hair loss and the fact that when his hair was wet I could see nasty little bald spots. After focusing on my ex's thinning hair for five minutes, I realized I didn't miss him anymore, and the little heart icon didn't bother me so much.


This whole process did make me think about expectations and a "wish list" per say when it comes to guys. I realized quickly that in the past five years my wish list has changed drastically. (Come on, admit... you have the list too. We all do...) Here's what mine looks like:


AGE 20
-tall
-handsome
-full lips/ straight teeth


AGE 25 (now)
-taller than me
-still handsome in the right lighting
-full head of hair


AGE 30 (my predictions)
-not a midget
-not a complete troll
-still has a few hairs on his head and a working penis


I don't want to say that I'm starting to settle by any means. But I think as I get older, and the pool of eligible bachelors gets smaller, I'm needing to change my expectations. And by change, I mean lower...

But, for now, I can be happy that my Donald Trump-esque ex has found someone else and I can still hope to find a guy with a great mane. Because in five years I won't have a chance in hell...

The Trickster

Last summer, I worked briefly on a TV pilot and became friends with one of the production assistants. He was nice enough, and quickly became my "dinner buddy" on set. The problem was that every week he would ask me out on a date, and I had already openly told him that I was single and active in the dating scene.


And so, every Friday when he would ask me out, I would politely decline. He asked me what my "type" of guy was. So I did my very best to describe the opposite of him.


"6'4" or taller," I'd say. "Blond hair, blue eyes, chiseled, straight teeth, non-smoker, Christian..." The whole nine yards. You would think that being a short, chain smoking, Jewish guy that he would take a hint. But he was resilient and continued asking me out until the day our contracts ended.


So two months ago when he asked me to join a big group of people for Dim Sum on a Saturday afternoon, I was a bit skeptical. But since we had been dinner buddies, I thought one lunch would be harmless. NOPE. 


He picked me up and when we arrived at Dim Sum I honestly didn't know how to react. Sitting at our table was his sister, brother-in-law, niece, and nephew. This was the "big group of people". I was awkwardly tricked into a freakin family brunch! Worse than that, he kept acting as if I was a long-time girlfriend, so I kept reminding the family how we hadn't seen each other in months. 


Now, you would think that I would have been smart enough to cut all ties. But I always give people the benefit of the doubt, even when they don't deserve it. Maybe everyone else really had bailed last minute? So, last week when he called me up to ask me out to sushi with a "big group of people" I heard myself saying sure before I could even process it. My friends all told me to cancel, but I am a woman of my word, so I went.


When I arrived, I was relieved to discover that no family was in attendance, but then quickly learned that we were instead on a double date this time, with a married couple! Tricked AGAIN! I honestly couldn't believe that he would have the nerve to pull the same stint twice...


Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I can now promise you that I will not be fooled another time. What would come next? A picnic with his grandma? So as far as my trickster is concerned, my 2011 calender is now fully booked. And maybe this has finally taught me how to say "no". Maybe...

The Lip Biter

The other night, despite my better judgement, I allowed a girlfriend of mine to drag me along to a kegger. That's right... a house full of young, horny students, drinking cheap, flat beer, all trying to pick up the opposite sex likes it's their job. I figured I'm not getting any younger, so it might be one of the last keggers I ever attend. 


I was pleasantly surprised when I arrived, as the crowd was a bit older like myself, and the house not a typical "student house". I even spotted a couple cute guys right off the bat, so I decided to stay.


One hour later, with a stomach full of cheap beer, my friend who brought me, announced that she was ready to leave. "But the party just got staaaaarted!" I slurred. The cute boy that I was nuzzled up with on the couch, nodded like I was some wise guru, sharing a deep philosophical thought. So, my girlfriend decided to leave, and I decided to stay at the party now knowing no one, minus the eye candy on my shoulder. Hey, I was at a kegger... so why not act like it?


Another hour later, I had a great buzz on, and was just about drunk enough to make out with whats-his-face, when he got dragged along on a booze run with some friends. Because there clearly wasn't enough booze in the house already. A bit disappointed, I slumped on the couch, contemplating my next move, when something very odd happened.

A tomboyish girl came up to me and told me to quit being so glum. "Dance with me!" she called over the music. So I did.  I danced one lame techno song with her in the living room and then sat back down. She grabbed my arm and insisted on another dance. I politely declined, so she proceeded to "convince" me by initiating some creepy one-sided tickle fight. At this point I started to clue in that maybe she wasn't just interested in dancing with me. I wriggled myself free of the tickle fight, wrapped myself up in a blanket, and plunked back onto the couch.

And then.... I kid you not... she sat down on top of me, and with the force of the great hulk, kissed (or should I say BIT) me. Hard. On the lips. At this point we became the highlight of the kegger. Everyone was interested in the lesbian action happening on the couch and my red face was quickly turning deep shade of purple. 


"I've been wanting to do that since the moment you walked in," she purred to me. So, I've apparently got irresistible lips- who can blame the girl? I told her I wasn't really comfortable with this, and she took that as her cue to kiss me again. But again, it was more of a bite/ sucking my lips off. It literally took all my strength to de-pry her again. "If you're not comfortable with everyone around, then we could go somewhere more private," she added. I told her, that wasn't the part that was making me uncomfortable.


I swear at this point the rest of the party stopped. Everyone should have gotten popcorn and reclined in their lazyboys. Cause this was top-drawer entertainment. Through my drunken haze, I finally snapped out of it enough to be blunt, cause this girl was not taking a hint. I told her I go one way, and one way only... and that's the penis way (Or something equally as profound). So she got in a huff and stalked away, the party resumed, and cute boy re-entered right on cue. 


I did end up getting my make out with the boy, but my real souvenir from that night was the purple bruise I woke up with the next morning, on my lip, from the ever persistent lip biter.

The Dick

Today, instead of writing about another catastrophic date, I thought I would copy and paste the most unusual message I have received so far in online dating land. It starts out witty, but quickly becomes vulgar, and I thought you could all help me to decipher what this twisted little man's intentions were. Enjoy.

-CQ

I read your profile and learned in the process that you aren’t really a fan of casual dating. I wanted to say from the outset that I am not either I am serious about finding someone for something lasting.

I also read that you are a professional writer which is a little intimidating especially within the context of composing a first contact letter because I know how important every little thing is in the beginning. So with that in mind, I’m not going to try to be witty or cleaver (I enjoy how he spelt 'clever' wrong) and instead I will just come straight to the point and tell you exactly the sort of long term relationship I am looking for.

Okay, seems fairly normal thus far. Read on...

Quite simply, I am desperately poor and I am looking for a woman to support me in style and introduce me into High Society with her Rich Writer Money. While I have no intention of actually getting a job and making a financial contribution to any relationship we may have, I am willing to help out around the around the house by physically threatening any servants you might have. Removing a prosthetic limb during dinner and waving it menacingly at your bus boy while demanding more butter can have an effect on your employees’ moral that has to be seen to be believed. 

Sort of funny, but now it starts to get weird.

Now that I have told you a little about me, I am sure you can imagine the rare find I truly am so it seems appropriate to turn to what I want out of a relationship besides your Rich Writer Money.

I am here because I want to put my penis in your vagina. I am not here because I want you to clean my house as many other women seem to believe. I am a man, I don't care if the house is clean.

I am not here because I want you to help me move to a new apartment and I'm too lazy to do the heavy lifting. It’s really so simple, the only thing I want to see you lift is my penis to your lips to make it hard and ready to be put it in your vagina.

WHAAAAAT?!!?

Money. Ok look: just because I want your Rich Writer Money doesn’t mean that I don’t want to put my penis in your vagina. One is not incompatible with the other.

Penis Penis Penis - Vagina Vagina Vagina. Penis in Vagina. Am I finally making myself clear to you?

Crystal clear, asshole.

Now when I say I want to put my penis in your vagina this isn't some metaphor referring to Bavarian Log Rolling nor do I want you to take me to Calgary so we can go on the luge. I mean it literally.

As a result of being on the internet and looking for vaginas I can put my penis in, I have become painfully aware that “Penis” has a different meaning in Kurdish and that “Vagina” has a different meaning in Swahili than they respectively do in English. First of all, I can assure you that I am using these words in their role as part of English Language. Second of all I don't do that sort of thing to a chicken and even if I did, I already have a brother so I wouldn't need you. I just want to put my penis in your vagina; there is no need to complicate this, randomly change the language you are reading in twice in the middle of the same sentence or over think things.

Okay he rambled on at this point and referenced “putting my penis in your vagina” six more times, each time becoming more explicit than than the previous.

In closing all I can say is that you should give me a chance, put my penis in your vagina and see what happens.
Your Humble and Obedient Servant
N

Really? REALLY!?!

P.S You may also want to read my profile for further background information on what a long term relationship with me would really be like.

Is this him admitting it was all a joke? So NOW I'm supposed to see the “real him” and realize how witty and unique he is ? 

I. DON'T. THINK. SO.