DATING IN THE NEW CENTURY, PART 1: THIS PARACHUTE IS A KNAPSACK

The other day I went to CVS to get a nail file. I asked the nuclear physicist behind the photo counter what aisle it was in, and she pointed me to Aisle 7. Of course, this turned out to be the wrong aisle, and I was stuck staring at pregnancy tests and condoms. Two worlds collide, right? Somewhere, someone is laughing at me.

Not only am I not swimming in the dating pool, but I don't even have a pair of floaties to hold me up in the deep end. My recent attempts to find a suitable guy have been so heinously off-target that I've actually considered turning the gun on myself. If my life were a comic book, I would be the one stuck in the burning building while the cameras follow the mild-mannered reporter in the phone booth (btw, that wasn't fooling anyone). Observe, for your mocking pleasure:

1) THE SUPER SEX-A-HOLIC 




At the time, this guy really pissed me off, but now I find him really pathetic. Plus I got a really great group of girlfriends out of dating this loser, so it wasn't a total misfire.

When I first moved back to Manhattan, I knew absolutely no one, and he was literally the first person I met, a month after I got there. He was an entertainment lawyer, and one of his clients was playing at a college that I was trying to book one of my bands at. So it wasn't a creepy Internet meeting or anything like that.

His roommate originally liked me, and Sexaholic stole me from him, which I found out later. But as soon as he came over, that was it. First of all, he was totally hot. Really tall, and I am not the only one that compared him to Christopher Reeve playing Superman. He was also a Mets fan, AND a Jets fan, AND an Islanders fan, which meant not only could we root for two of the same teams, but I also had license to make fun of him, because the Islanders don't count. It didn't even matter when I found out he was 10 years older than me, because it was already 3am, and we'd been talking all night.

He asked me out for the next night, after he was done hanging out with his mom, which is like, fifty bonus points. The conversation was great, the pizza was great, and then he took me to a midnight sing-along of The Muppet Movie at an indie theater on Houston. The sexual tension was practically visible. It took me about three hours to sleep with him.

About a month into this new semi-relationship, we were relaxing in bed at Sexaholic's apartment. It was his birthday weekend and I had just taken him out for Thai food and an extremely horrible movie. The whole time we'd been seeing each other he had been bugging me to ditch the Trojans. Today was no different, and he even tried the "but it's my birthday" excuse. I'm not retarded so I completely refused, asking him if I'm the only one he's sleeping with. I already knew the answer, but I was SO not prepared for what came next.

Sexaholic started rattling off a list of names, and then he got to Girl X, who's married. "But it's OK," he told me, "her husband knows. It's an open marriage."

I was totally fine with dating other people- like I said, I'd just moved there, and was still looking to meet people. But this completely blew my mind. However, I'm an adult now, so maybe this was how dating was supposed to go. As long as I didn't see it, maybe I wasn't going to be affected by it.

So, dumbass that I am, I actually continued to see this guy. Things spiraled from there- Sexaholic kept referring to me as his "friend" in public, no matter how many times I told him it bothered me. Then, one of the roommates moved out of the apartment and one of the members of his skank harem actually moved into the empty space. As if that weren't bad enough, she was constantly all over him in front of me- it was disgusting. I had finally had enough a few months later and left him. Everyone in my life, including one of his other exes that I've actually become pretty good friends with, practically erected a monument in my honor. We even tried hanging out as friends, but he kept bringing his new fuck buddies around and hanging on them in front of me. I swear one of them was like, 12 years old.

After we split for good, I found out some interesting stuff about him that made me thank GOD I got tested three times. An extremely reliable source told me that he gave an ex an STD, and that he also- get this- is a sperm donor. Somewhere in the world there could be little Sexaholic Juniors running around. For humanity's sake, I PRAY none of them took.

Finally, I just cut off all contact. About six months ago I got an email from him inviting me to his birthday party, and I sent him one back telling him to get the fuck out of my life, that I had moved out of state and to never contact me again. He actually answered me, pissed off that I hadn't told him I moved (why would I?), and that was that. It was one of the most liberating things I had ever done, and it made me feel great.

2) THE MAGAZINE SUBSCRIPTION



You'd think I would have learned not to date guys I meet in bars by now. Well, you're wrong, because I'm an idiot.

The Subscription set me in his sights like the wild boar that stalks all the castaways on Lost. I walked past him a few times and he finally talked to me for about an hour, until my friend came to get me when it was time to leave. He took my number and actually called me the next night, and we talked for four hours. He asked me out a week later to watch the Yankee game, which was amazing because we're both Mets fans and were both rooting for the Angels. After the Angels got their ass kicked (I call bullshit!), and we dealt with annoying Yankees fans screaming shit about the World Series as usual, he drove me home, where we had a slight makeout session in his car which ended with him telling me he would call me tomorrow. He didn't try anything other than some over-the-shirt stuff, which I chalked up to him being 35 and respectful (finally!).

He texted me the next day, and for the next week we texted off and on and he invited me to hang out with him and his friend for Halloween. I had fun with him, but his friend was a dick- hitting on me all night and telling me all this cryptic shit like, "He won't make a move on you. You have to do it." I thought that was weird, but like I said, his friend was a drunk asshole, so whatever. My mom and Grandma happened to be staying with me that weekend, so I didn't go home with him, which we were both pretty bummed about- or so I thought.

The next weekend he went to my friend A's birthday party with me. It was totally his idea, BTW. He seemed like he was having fun, and he even kissed me on the subway, in front of people. Later, he dropped me off at home, and we were in his car. Things were getting kind of hot- I was practically doing a striptease in his lap, and I offered to go home with him. That's when he stops, pulls back, and goes, "I can't. I have issues."

Oh, great. Did I pick up a married guy or something? "No wife, no girlfriend. I'm not seeing anyone else, I just have issues. We'll talk about them later." Um, OK.

He called me the next day and we went to see a movie. This time he offered to take me back to his place. Will I finally get laid? At this point it's actually been over a year.

So we got to his place and he offered me a snack, or a drink, and I'm thinking, "Dude, please, just take off your pants." We go upstairs and get to work. This dude goes to the gym five times a week and it shows- his body is better than mine. It would have been annoying if I didn't get to look at him naked.

We did everything else and then I brought up the subject of protection, and he actually said, "No, I don't have any." Not, "Shit, sorry, I really thought I had some." Just, "Nope, don't have any. No one's getting laid tonight." So we lay there, and went to sleep.

Things got stranger after that. His laptop wallpaper was a picture of him and some girl that I'm pretty sure is not his sister. He stood me up twice and didn't call. I started texting him and inviting him places way more than he did with me. I mentioned once after brushing my teeth that we used the same toothpaste and he freaked as if I had just proposed marriage. Then he went to London for a week and I didn't hear from him once. When I asked him if it was for work, he got weird and went, "Well...yeah." I polled my friends about this- the guys told me not to worry about it, my girlfriends told me I should.

When he came back, we FINALLY did it- sort of. We were in the middle of it, and before he finished, he told me he "needed a break," pulled out, and left me laying there. We got together the day after Thanksgiving, and we still didn't have sex, but we did everything else, so I couldn't figure out what the hell his problem was. Then I left to visit my dad in California, and when I called him, he didn't pick up the phone.

I came home from California and sent him a text acknowledging that I knew he didn't want to talk to me, but he did have Tupperware from when he asked me to bring him leftovers from Thanksgiving. That shit is Rubbermaid, dude! It's like 10 bucks! Eight hours later (!), he sends me this long-winded crap about how I forced him into a relationship and he wanted to take things slow and that's not what I wanted. I told him that actually, that was what I wanted, and that he didn't even know me, and shouldn't assume and should have just talked to me instead of ignoring me. He asked if I wanted to talk, I replied that I did, and then...nothing. I never heard from him again.

Excuse me? First of all, there are only a few acceptable reasons for falling off the planet for a week:

A) You're in a coma (natural or induced).

B) You're on a deserted island that keeps changing locations and/or time periods. However, I am fully aware that life is not really an episode of Lost, so there's a good chance this can't really happen.

C) You have morphed into Superman and must go back in time to stop Lois Lane from dying. If this is the case, I would also like an apology for the last three Superman movies, Spider-Man 3, and any/all Batman movies in between the Michael Keaton and Christian Bale eras (this includes the cartoons).

D) You have adopted a puma from the World Wildlife Fund, and said puma was ungrateful and ate you.

If your excuse is anything other than these four, it is unacceptable.

Also, unless the "what" you are referring to is chocolate, never assume that you know what I want. And if it is chocolate, the answer is always "yes" or "wait five minutes."

And just for the record, I wasn't aware that we were in a relationship. Take note: If we are not even fucking, YOU ARE NOT MY BOYFRIEND. I'm aware that you're afraid of sex, but here's some breaking news- just because you can make somebody cum does not mean they are going to want to marry you. Lighten up! This isn't junior high! Sex is supposed to be fun! If I made some kind of lifetime promise to everyone I've ever slept with, then... I forgot my mom might be reading this blog. Never mind.

By "taking it slow," I'm pretty sure he meant "taking it glacial." I'm also confused as to what I "forced" this guy into. Sex? No, not that. Going out in the public eye? Can't be that either. I certainly didn't force him to take my number, or to call me, or to ask me out. Or to start making out with me in his car. Just stating the obvious.

Anyway, I doubt I'll ever hear from this guy again. Since I've committed to not using names in any of these posts I can't warn people about him, but I feel sorry for the next girl he hits on in a bar. This dude needs serious time on the couch.

3) THE SUPERVILLIAN



Just in case you think that your ex wins the Evil Contest, you're wrong. I don't care what your story is-

I WIN.

Baby Carrot (or, as everyone who knows him refers to him, The Supervillian) and I were friends for about six years before he finally told me he liked me. And even after he did, I waited a week and then finally, I was the one that made the first move. I know, wuss. But whatever. After that, not only did things go downhill faster than some five-year-olds on a sled, the whole situation was so hellacious that I cringe just thinking about it.

I would complain to all my friends, who probably wanted to punch me (and him) in the face for being retarded. I stayed with this douchebag for a year and a half, off and on. Once I dumped him for the second time you’d think I’d be smart enough (because I am a genius) to figure out that he was a complete asshole, but no! SIX TIMES, people! Six times!
So here’s all the crap that he pulled, in order of Supervillain-ness:

We’d be in my room, doing...um, stuff, and he’d start talking about how hot other girls were. And not just celebrities and porn stars, either- like, girls in his classes. I wanted to grab it and twist.

Besides that, he never took me out or bought me anything. Not once. I’d suggest dinner, movies- his answer was always “no.” No explanation, just “no.” What a great guy. He also never introduced me to his friends or talked to me in front of them. I think he was ashamed to be seen with me. I mean, I know I’m not Angelina Jolie or anything, but come on! I’m like, ten times hotter than he is!

So my birthday came around, and I was actually looking forward to it. Despite the fact that we’d had a fight like, three weeks ago because he’d told me I “wasn’t important” (that’s a direct quote), he’d actually begged for forgiveness and we’d made up. For his last girlfriend’s birthday he’d shelled out 400 bucks and bought her a ring, and they’d only been dating for a couple of months. For my birthday, he got me...a phone call. And he didn’t even come over! Three days later, he thought an appropriate birthday present was sex, and it wasn’t even that great. And I’d just spent $120 on him for Christmas (he’d also gotten me zilch for Chanukkah).

So that was it. I was like, “See ya, dude,” and I dumped his ass on the cold, hard ground (in case you’re wondering, I let him put his pants back on first). Nine months later, I (no, not that) saw him again when he came over to pick up a check from my dad, who had gone out of his way to give The Supervillian a job, and he drops this bombshell that- get this- he has brain cancer and only six months to live. Not only that, but then he says that all his friends think that he’s lying about everything and they won’t talk to him anymore. I was appalled. Who does that? What fucking idiots. Not only that, but his parents can't afford to pay for his chemotherapy. So my dad pulls out his checkbook and writes him a $10,000 check.

We start hanging out again, and eventually we get back together. All my friends think I’m stupid, but I don’t care. Then all of a sudden I don’t hear from him for a week. I’m flipping out- calling hospitals and all that crap. Then I finally see him in school and he’s like, “What? I went on vacation.” Then he SHRUGS ME OFF in front of like, ten other people. Oh, hell no. Even though he’s sick, he’s still an asshole. I reluctantly dump him again. He’s a complete dick, like he doesn’t even care, which makes it a lot easier.

I run into his mom like a month later and ask how he is, and she goes, “Cancer? What are you talking about? He never had cancer.” In the weeks that it takes me to process this information, I see one of his ex-friends who tells me where my dad's money really went- to a cruise, where he took another girl, while we were still together.

Yup, these are the guys that I pick. Are there annual asshole conventions where my picture gets passed around? I used to believe in taking risks, but what's the point of jumping out of the plane if you're going to land flat on your ass every time?