If you're still with me after Part One, first of all; thank you. I appreciate your willingness to put up with my essay-length ramblings. Second, if you're still here because you think you're going to get a feel-good read about how I managed to weed through the crazies and finally find my perfect match, come on. Be realistic.
At least this one is funnier and doesn't end in tears or bloodshed.
1) THE PERV-INATOR
I met this loser on the train coming back from my grandmother's. He only communicated through email, but then again, that seems to be the way people choose to talk to each other these days. He took me to a mildly appealing wine bar where, despite claiming to have been born and raised on LES, he still pronounced "Houston Street" like the city in Texas.
We still managed to have a pleasant conversation and I actually found myself kind of liking him, until he pinned me down onto one of the booths and rammed his tongue into my mouth like a tapeworm going for the lower intestine. I did not appreciate being sexually assaulted in public while I was sober and politely excused myself.
I ignored his emails for a full year(!) until I started to feel sorry for him and told him that I wasn't interested. His answer was, "Oh, I just thought you were busy. I'll stop saying hi."
Dumbass.
2) THE FAIRY PRINCESS
This gem started talking to me on the 6 Train, coincidentally on the same day I met the Perv-inator. We got off on the same stop, and he suggested going for pizza. The only thing that was really memorable about this date is that as we were eating, Christian Siriano, who at the time had JUST won Project Runway, walked by our table and I managed not to completely spaz out with geeker joy and call every single one of my girlfriends (we LOVE him).
We went on a few more dates, and each time he got clingier. He called and texted like, 11 times a day and would leave me voice mails that started with "Hey, it's me." If I didn't call him back right away, he'd call again. When he was out with his friends, he would text me, telling me where he was and when he was coming home. Dude, I've known you for eight minutes. We're not there yet.
At this point I was still semi-dating Sexaholic (see Part 1) so everyone was encouraging me to give this other guy a chance, because at least he was nice to me. And honestly, even if he was super-annoying, it did feel good to be treated right. So I agreed to another date, for my mom's sake.
He invited me to a yacht party, and we decided to meet up at the 6 train. Sexaholic and I had gotten into yet another fight, and I had told him I needed a "break," so already I was not in the best of moods. The Princess called me and told me he was running a few minutes late. I told him that was fine and I would meet him at the subway. Two minutes later he called me back to ask if I was OK. I KNOW!
We got to the party and I decided to ditch him. I'm not proud of it, but seriously, it was the only way I could get him off my back. I acted really bored, sat a foot away from him, hit on other guys, and he didn't even get it. Finally he suggested meeting up with his friends at a different party and I told him I was tired and wanted to go home. That was when he asked me if I "minded" if he went out with his friends. I seriously contemplated stabbing him in the head with my stiletto. He put me in a cab and then called me three times that night. I never called him back, and luckily, after trying to call me again twice the next day, I never heard from him again.
3) DOCTOR OCTOPUS
I met this guy at a bar, when I was working for a band whose marketing department I used to run. He worked in Manhattan, so we met up a few times for happy hour. We had a ton in common, he was really cute, and we got along great- until he finally kissed me and he licked the side of my face. As in, like a dog. He also grabbed onto my boobs like they were PS3 controllers. I was SO bummed. Dude was like, 32! I couldn't picture living with that forever, let alone another date. Ugh. Time to move on.
4) THE INCREDIBLE SHRINKING PROSPECT
I "dated" this guy for about a month. On date number one, he picked me up and the minute I got into his car, he had Radiohead playing (100 bonus points!), followed immediately by Interpol. Over the course of a few "dinners" (beer and waffle fries- but whatever- I'm low maintenance) I gradually found out he's a health nut and a USC Trojans fan that watches Nip/Tuck. I started thinking, "could I actually have found somebody decent?" But it's me, so of course not. First, he insulted bagels. I tried explaining to him that New Yorkers have four food groups: pizza, pretzels, hot dogs and bagels- telling me not to eat them is like telling Lady Gaga not to look like an idiot.
Then he dropped the bomb that he "wasn't a fan" of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Is that even possible? Not liking Kraft mac 'n' cheese is like burning the flag or kicking a puppy: you just DON'T.
However, we had so much in common that I let it slide- until he started drunk texting me every night for a week. That should have been my first clue, but no! I invited him over for movie night. I sat on my couch and watched him down an entire bottle of whiskey until he finally started drunkenly groping me. The whole time I went over the Mets starting lineup in my head to keep from laughing. He told me I have a huge rack, and I'm thinking, "thanks for noticing. Like I don't realize this every day in the shower when I can't see my feet?" Then, as if this is going to be a huge turn-on, he begged me- BEGGED ME- to let him take off his pants and stick it between my boobs. I couldn't help hysterically laughing, and he asked me, "Does that mean yes?" I told him, "That means get the hell out of my apartment." Then I kicked him out and watched the What Not To Wear marathon for the rest of the night.
Seriously, who lets these guys out of their cages? And do they have parents?
Thinking about my recent dating experiences, I have come to the following conclusions:
A) I can't even look at my own girl parts in the shower, so any lesbian moments are totally out of the question;
B) and, seeing as how my house has a menorah, I can't become a nun. I mean, I could convert, but that would completely destroy my grandmother. So no.
Any suggestions would be welcome.
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