My last, strange, 12 hours....
So, in my ever strange world of dating, I again head out into the social scene. And yes I went with a friend. This one is a tall, blond, with just the right amount of everything, and the "perfect" (except when they fight) boyfriend. Where as I, have a little bit extra of everything.
Now, any girl will tell you that her parents and friends tell you that you are beautiful. And a true friend will also tell you that you look like ass when you do (in addition to when you are being an ass). So friend and I took plenty of time w/ my hair, makeup, & outfit choice.
However, only so much an be done to keep a girls moral and self confidence up when they are still single.
So, we decided to hit this new place that the masses have been raving about for a few weeks. We find a high table, and sit down w/ our drinks. As miss thang has a significant other and she isn't the type to cheat, we are really out for a girls night of catching up. But within minutes drinks start arriving for both of us from all over the place. Finally we asked the waitress for "tuits" (for those who don't know what a tuit is, it is a "chip" (about the size of a poker chip) w/ the establishments name on it that you "collect" until you are ready for a new drink, or when you are ready to get "to it" - great concept.
And then the purchasers of these drinks show up. And the hot one sits w/ her, and they have a great conversation - and the wing man sits down next to me and can barely beat out "me caveman, you cave girl, me buy you drink, we go have animal sex in ally behind building" as I look over at hot guy hitting on friend. And I hear her say "I am off the market, but my beautiful, funny, smart friend is single."
Here is the most frustrating part. I really don't think I am ugly, but as hard as I work out, I still have some extra padding. I think I am funny, I know I am smarter than the average fluff in the place, and I AM single. But obviously hot guy is interested in a her, not me with the extra padding along every inch of my torso.
And then in walks my trainer from the gym - and I am in even bigger trouble. See, he is the only person who has actually tried to bed me lately but I won't give into the stereotype because I NEED him. I need to be able to gaze at him adoringly as he pushes my body "past it's limitations to reach its greatest potential" and sleeping with him is sure to disillusion me. And THEN he sees me with ALL of the empties in front of me.
Tomorrow will be hell. I don't know which is worse: the stare from across the dance floor, the fact that he doesn't come over, or knowing I am going to have a hangover and he won't care.
So this morning I drag ass to the gym and I get on the elliptical and start my warm up. And over he saunders. And STARES at me the ENTIRE FIVE MINUTES. And then grunts GET OFF MACHINE. So I dutifully follow him around the gym to his polysylabic orders.
Finally I sqeek out - "hangover?" and he says "serves you right." Then he actually has the gaul to ask "did you go home with him?" Here I am asking if HE has a hangover and he throws it back in my face.
WHAT THE F___ is going on here?
I just stared and stared and stared. And out of his mouth comes the following: "If you are dumb enough to go out with any of those tools you deserve to be unhappy. What is it that keeps you from taking me seriously?"
Is he SERIOUS??? I can barely THINK over the fuzzy buzz in my head from last night and he is asking me why I won't sleep with him????? And worse, all I can think is "do I need to get a new trainer?"
Finally I sink down to the weight bench. And I just stare up at him. How does a girl who WANTS a boy friend tell her visual fantasy that she NEEDS the fantasy to get by while being single? So what do I say? "Because I need you to get me look like that" (as I point to the perfectly toned abs of the MILF across the room).
He looked at me as if I had a 2nd head growing off of my shoulders and informed me "real men don't want to be with stick figures, they like curves."
Well, if this is true, why then is he the only "real man" I have met?
Labels: dating disasters