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A Fire Down Below

26 Feb

Gather ’round young souls, for I will now share with you the story of the time I lit my underwear on fire.  It doesn’t have much to do with my love life, I suppose, but may give you some perspective into the breed of lady you are dealing with here.  Bear in mind this was several years ago and I have undeniably gained poise, self-discipline, and some sort of fashion sense since then.

So there I was, ringing in the year 2006 by dancing with a bunch of sexy guys at the hottest party in town.  And by that I of course mean dancing under some black lights with my stoner guy friends in someone’s living room in the middle of Wisconsin.  I had recently turned 21 and was proudly sporting one of my signature looks: a low-cut shirt paired with super low-rise flared jeans exposing the top of my thong.  The fact that my underwear was often peaking out from my pants was not really a fashion choice, but more of a lack of effort to dress myself correctly.  If my friends and coworkers today could only see the outfit I was wearing on this fateful eve, I would probably lose my job… and maybe a few friends to boot.  But I was feeling super cute that night, holding a cigarette in one hand and a plastic cup in the other.  You may venture to guess my state at this point was less than sober… when I administered a gyration great enough to knock the lit end off my cigarette and down my shirt.  I didn’t even notice until an intense burning sensation on my torso truncated my groove.  My first instinct was to shake it out of my shirt, but in doing so I sent it straight down to the protruding neon pink mesh belonging to my thong.  I watched the top of my underwear first begin to smoke, then turn to flame as I pointed and laughed with my friends like a big idiot.  Luckily, my sister was nearby and ran over to fan and pat out the flame arising from my undies.  The cigarette had burned a hole through my shirt and the front of my thong, and I still have little round burn marks on my skin at both locations.

“The time my sister put out my underwear fire” is a cherished family story that often gets told over the Christmas turkey.  But I feel like I can talk to you about anything, Mr. Internet, so now you know my story, too.

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Modern Romance

8 Feb

One of the best things about having this blog is that readers always want to share their  stories with me.  I love hearing about other people’s crazy dating experiences!  If you have a good one, please feel free to share.  Here are some particularly romantic ones that I’ve heard recently:

“A guy just messaged me on OKCupid asking me to visit him in prison.”

“A few weeks ago I had sex in the desert at five AM next to a giant cow carcass that still had some of its skin on it.”

“My first OKCupid blind date was with a girl who surprised me by taking me to an art class.  She painted a river of blood and confessed she had a fetish for men with protruding hip bones.”

“I dated a guy who slept naked on a yoga mat on the floor and the only time he left his mat was to bet a dollar on a horse.  We broke up because he told me that he didn’t feel like we were ‘marching towards marriage’.”

“The other night I went into the bedroom of the guy I’m dating and noticed that there was a turd on his desk chair.  But he ran over and grabbed it before I could say anything.”

“My first OKCupid date held his napkin to my face and asked me to tell him if it smelled like chloroform.  At the end of the night he kissed me teeth first.  It hurt.”

“I’m fairly certain the hot nineteen year old girl from OKCupid that I’ve been corresponding with for two months is actually my homosexual male upstairs neighbor.”

“Once I went on an OKCupid date with a man who revealed to me that he lived under a bush in Central Park.”

“While I was on tour I woke up next to what looked like an elderly man with tits and a bleached wig.  I think I need to delete my OKCupid because this is becoming a problem.”

I don’t know whether to feel jealous or lucky.

Dear Friend

29 Dec

Have I mentioned that all my friends from back home have a couple of screws loose?  Ah well… I’m one to talk!  I received this email from a significant old friend of mine two days after seeing him briefly over the holidays.  While unrequited infatuation seemed to be the motif of the month, he is a lovely writer and, by far, the wittiest person I know.  And yes, I had to look up “anamnesis.”

“Hey hey–
Insomnic, somnolent, my eyes are glazed, my toes are cold. I should have stayed in bed.
I finally thought to myself: ‘Self, let’s see what she has been up to.’ So I read your blog. You’re a gifted writer, no doubt. Humor and candor are hard to combine.
What a difference between Jeff and I! There are friends, and there are friends. You and I… I know I’ve been deluded, but… I finally saw myself as you see me. I’m ashamed. Distressed. Disappointed. I admit to a profound sadness.
Above everything else, I’m sorry. Really, just sorry for everything. Years ago I had an epiphany; tonight the anamnesis is bitter. I have no complaints. I’m grateful for the heartache, though it’s perverse.
No response would be best. If I want to remind myself what I am to you, I know where to look. Please enjoy the book, Ignatius is someone I have sympathy for. Consider it a souvenir for your trouble.
I will always be available to you, if you should have a need. I will always care for you. From a distance.
Anyway. I guess all that’s left is–
Bye.”

I’m sorry, dear friend, for posting your private email.  But if you aren’t going to exhibit your writing, someone should.  And I surely wouldn’t have the “humor and candor” I have today without you keeping me on my toes all those years.

Love,
Sara

And It’s Fun to Think About

23 Dec

There is a box on OKCupid profiles where you establish your astrological sign, then tell potential matches whether or not you take any stock in astrology.  Most guys on the website give their sign, but specify that they don’t care about it (that’s the manly thing to do).  I checked “Scorpio, and it’s fun to think about.”

While my sister and I waited to board our flight home, I expressed my concern that I sometimes come off as a bitch to guys I like.  She responded “Maybe the reason men see you as a drinking buddy or a rebound is because you put them down and turn everything into a joke.”  I considered several brash statements I’ve made to two different guys and realized she might be right…

“Did you spray yourself with Febreeze before you came out tonight?”
“You seem taller than I remember… are you wearing heels?”
“My coworkers know you as ‘The Chimichanga Guy’ because you only eat chimichangas.”
“Your hair looks like a newborn kitten!”
“Wow, and I thought I didn’t have a filter.  Let’s see if you can go five whole minutes without talking.”
“Why do you always eat raw onions before we hang out?”

Now hold on, before you write me off as a big jerk…  I know that I do this as a sort of defense mechanism.  If I’m in a situation where I feel nervous or unsure I tend to cover up my insecurities with bad jokes.  If I insult someone, chances are that I like him– if I don’t make fun of him, I’m probably bored.  Makes total sense, right?

Yesterday I found an astrology book in my old bedroom and flipped to my sign.  When I got to the part about Scorpio women and relationships, a paragraph caught my eye.  I ran downstairs and read it to my sister.  See!  There is an explanation for my obtuse tactics.  It’s right here in this book!

From Gary Goldschneider’s Everyday Astrology:
“Affection and the Scorpio–  Scorpios often express affection through making jokes or even hurling insults, with a twinkle in their eyes.  You are supposed to know that this is, in fact, affection, and Scorpios expect you to never be offended by it… Scorpio humor is rather strange in that it often involves making fun of the other person… Once Scorpios make such a statement they are likely to inflict further hurt (unintentionally, of course) by giving a provocative smile or even a full-throated chuckle or outright laugh.  The trick is not to react negatively, but instead to laugh along with them.”

I looked at my sister with relief, as if everything I have ever said and wished I could take back after the fact was so easily excused.  Her answer was simple…

“But no one will know that unless they have this book.”

Oh yeah.

The Showmance

18 Dec

When I was in grad school, I briefly dated a man with really small hands.  The tiniest little marmot paws.  The hands of a child.  And by “dated” I of course mean we had a “showmance.”  For those of you who don’t fancy yourself a current or former thespian, a “showmance” is a melodramatic, often short-lived relationship two people embark upon whilst in a play or some other type of show together.  Everything happens very fast– one day you’re singing and doing light choreography, the next you’re getting groped by miniature extremities in a stairwell.

The show we both happened to be in was a sex musical.  It was based on the book “Sex: An Oral History” and was developed by a fairly esteemed musical theatre duo who decided to workshop it at my school.  The premise was comprised of a series of vignettes, where the main guy travels the country, interviewing a diverse cast of characters about their sexual practices.  In it, I played three different characters: a ditzy coke-head in a night club, a teenaged boy playing basketball and bragging about his sexual exploits with his best friend, and finally, a sexy call girl.

“Dan” played my best friend in the teenaged boy/basketball segment.  So basically, while we were having a showmance, we had to dribble basketballs onstage together, wearing sleeveless Abercrombie tees and singing about “finger-banging” girls.  It takes true talent to pretend to be a boy, dribble a ball, AND sing all at the same time I’ll have you know.

In addition to his petite appendages, he had a lisp and a girlfriend.  She was older and lived in another state.  I like to think her name was Bess, because that is a good name for a squatty older thespian who has a mustache and loves improv.  There was also a rumor going around town that he was bisexual and had propositioned a few gentlemen.  I chose to ignore these minor idiosyncrasies and drink a lot of champagne.  Our showmance ended when the show did– and when he got back together with his ex-girlfriend (don’t they always?)

We ended up making a cast recording of the show, which I am on, singing about losing my virginity and the “pureness” of being a prostitute.  A real family keepsake.  The other day I had my ipod on shuffle and my duet with Dan came on.  I could barely listen through the whole song because it is so silly.  It also reminded me that, after the show ended, we all went to a studio in Boston to record the CD.  Dan’s solo was the last one scheduled to be recorded and mine was one of the first.  His newly re-acquired girlfriend was in town and he was whining about not being able to hang out with her that night.  I, trying to show him that I was unshaken by his dismissal of me, offered to switch time slots.  When it was finally time to record my solo, it was late at night and I was the last one there.  I had fallen asleep in the lobby and on the recording my voice sounds raspy and uneven.  I guess that works for the character of a seasoned hooker, but I was still pissed.  Sometimes I am too nice.

Come to think of it, most of my relationships up until my mid-20s stemmed from showmances.  Maybe that’s why I’m so good at dating!

Rock Paper Scissors

6 Dec

Let us travel back in time again to my senior year of college.  One night, I attended a house party deep in central Missouri with a few of my friends.  A girl I was with was dating a tenant of this house, and he lived with a slew of other young men.  I had my eye on one in particular.  His name was Bolten and he had a huge lightening bolt tattooed across his back.  Right up my alley.

Much of the usual college tomfoolery transpired at the party, but my favorite was a little game called Strip Rock Paper Scissors (I may or may not have introduced this game to the undergraduate population at my school).  A select group of partygoers hid upstairs in one of the guy’s rooms where we locked the door and began to play.  The boys were almost naked, Bolten bare-assed on his roommate’s desk chair, but my friend and I still had on our bras and jeans (we were old pros at SRPS).  All of a sudden we heard frantic knocking and shouting coming from the hallway, “GET THE F&%# OUT OF MY ROOM!”  The angry roommate karate-kicked the door in and screamed at us to leave at once.  It was later revealed to me that he was an extreme germaphobe with OCD.  That desk chair was never sat on again.

Bolten asked me out a few days later and we kissed under the awning of a used video game store.  He had a huge fro of curly black hair, giant blue eyes, the kind of lips that always look wet, and a penchant for optical illusion shirts.  At some point, he accompanied me back to my apartment and we made out on my bed.  Before anything else could happen, he said he had something he needed to tell me… “I might… uh… have one or two… umm… TINY……… warts.”   I leapt from my bed like it was on fire and he said he was going to go.  I had never met anyone with an STD before and I wasn’t about to scrutinize his Johnson under a microscope like that science class where I had to scoop around in a pond and then examine its scum.

Actually, that’s not true– I had met someone else with an STD.  My freshman year suite-mate had announced to me on move-in day that she had genital herpes and that we would be fine sharing a toilet… as long as she didn’t decide to use my soap in the shower.  She also said that I would know when she was having an outbreak because she would be in her room laying naked and spread-eagle for days.  I petitioned for a new roommate to no avail, so I ended up just removing everything that was mine from the shower each time I bathed.  I didn’t have much room for my stuff in the bathroom anyway, as she kept a lifetime supply of Sweet Love Douches lined up on the shelves.  I’m not kidding.  She was from Arkansas and was dating a dwarf with beads in his beard, and the only reason she went to college was to get away from her mother… who was having a lesbian affair with her (my suite mate’s) best friend.  She dropped out at the end of the semester and I moved off-campus.

Anyway.  I had mixed feelings about Bolten.  On one hand, it was very mature and respectable that he had told me about his genital warts.  On the other hand, I was in a glam R&B group called ChoCha with three of my friends, and it was PERFECT material for my next hit song.  Here are the lyrics:

Please Leave On the Shorts, If You Got the Warts

Chorus:
Please leave on the shorts if you got the warts
Please leave on the shorts if you got the warts

You may speak Spanish, you may have a tattoo
But there’s a better reason why I won’t get with you
Loungin’ in the desk chair completely nude
I’m starting to think you’re a real super dude
The lights are low, you’re covered in hair
And of your ailment I’m not yet aware.

(Chorus)

Just found out your mother dresses you
But it’s still not enough to keep me from you, boo
(Spoken) “YET!”
I still like your hair, I have no fears
Until you stole my friend’s QTips to clean out your ears
You made me spoon, you forgot to take Prozac
Player, get your own masseuse cuz I ain’t gonna scratch yo back!

(Chorus)

Just burned my sheets, had to buy a new cover
When I found out about your warts you couldn’t be my lover
Somewhere in your seven you got a disease
But unlike ingrown hairs, that shit lasts eternities

(Chorus)

(Spoken) “You might wanna wash your hands after this…”

Asking for a Friend

15 Oct

A “friend” was telling me about an unusual altercation she recently had at a karaoke bar in Midtown.  She was attending a going away party for someone from college she hadn’t even known was living in New York.  The bar was full of people she hadn’t seen since graduation day six years prior… which is stressful enough.  What was even more stressful is that a guy she used to be involved with was there with his girlfriend.  She eventually abandoned her mozzarella sticks to go greet the guy and meet his significantly younger girlfriend.  When my friend first moved to New York, she hung out with this guy a few times until his girlfriend sent her a sexual text pretending to be him.  She assumed that things would be awkward when they finally met, but the girlfriend was friendly enough.  In fact, she even took it upon herself to select a single man at the bar to be my friend’s “project” for the evening.  The person she selected was a dark-haired late-twenties guy in town from Los Angeles for reasons unknown.  My friend had been nervously downing beers like there’s no tomorrow and figured why not?– so she struck up a conversation with the stranger, choosing to ignore his stale personality.

All of the people she knew there began to depart, but my friend stuck around despite her original intent to only stay for one beer.  Feeling impulsive, she got up to sing karaoke– something she wouldn’t normally do because she hates karaoke almost as much as she hates Midtown and small armies of thespians.  After her song, “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac, she sat back down next to the stranger and he leaned in close, whispering “you have a wonderful voice.”  She smiled and excused herself downstairs to the bathroom.  While washing her hands she heard a noise and looked up to see the stranger burst through the door and lock it behind him.  He lunged towards her, forcefully kissing her and grabbing her chest.  She lurched backwards and slapped him across the face– her still-damp hand generating a crisp sound against his cheek that echoed through the bathroom.  She then ran upstairs and out of the bar.

Enduring the discomfort of a moderate hangover the next day, she was able to laugh about the events of the previous evening.  A sad, ironic laugh… the kind that if wine is involved may produce a tear or two.  I should know, I was there.

My Compatibility Quiz

22 Jul

As I’ve previously discussed, OKCupid uses hundreds of multiple choice questions to determine user match percentages.  Allegedly the questions were written by users on the website- not the administrators.  Many of these questions are basically asking the same thing in a variety of different ways.  In order to see how other users answer each question, I have to answer them myself, which is a real pain in the ass.   So lately I’ve been handcrafting some questions of my own.  I feel they really get down to business rather than pussy-footing around the subject of compatibility.  And yes, I just used the phrase “pussy-footing around.”  Go ahead, check ‘em out:

________________

1.  Have you ever eaten a Pupperoni?

a.  Yes, and I enjoyed myself.

b.  No, and I would never.

c.  No, but I would like to.

d.  Yes, and I did not enjoy myself.

_______________

2.  How many times have you tried to get into your apartment using your Metrocard?

a.  Never, that’s stupid.

b.  1-5 times.  Whoopsie.

c.  5-20 times.  I occasionally shoot Jager.

d.  20-100 times.  I rarely know what’s going on.

________________

3.  If a genie granted you 3 wishes, what would you wish for?

a.  A trillion dollars.

b.  World peace.

c.  More genies.

d.  Nude genies.

________________

4.  Forget ______, let’s ______.

a.  Going to bars;  Balance our checkbooks together.

b.  TV; Read the bible.

c.  Talking; Bone.

d.  Procreation; Adopt multiple children from Africa.

_______________

5.  What do you say when someone tells you they love you?

a.  I love you, too.

b. Thanks!

c.  LOL.

d.  Girl I know, I know.

_______________

6.  When you lose weight where does it go?

a.  Into your muscles.

b.  Into thin air.

c.  Out of your ass.

d.  To someone deemed “naughty” by Santa.

_______________

7.  What is the scariest thing a woman can do?

a.  Talk about commitment.

b.  Take her clothes off.

c.  Not take her clothes off.

d.  Break wind.

_______________

8.  Do you own any petrified wood?

a.  What’s that?

b.  Yes!  From combing the beach with Uncle Russell as a kid.

c.  No, that’s weird.

d.  Sometimes, when I watch scary porn.

_______________

9.  Out of these options, which is your favorite U.S. President?

a.  Taft.

b.  Clinton.

c.  Polk.

d.  Nixon.

_______________

10.  Which of these options sounds like the best first date?

a.  Getting liquified then getting matching tattoos.

b.  Going on a bike ride then learning Braille together.

c.  Reading The Economist out loud to each other whilst giving back rubs.

d.  A Mexican fiesta and a game of Uno.

________________

If you answered A, B, D, C, D, D, C, D, B, D… We are compatible!  Now accepting applications, inquire within.

I’m going to submit these questions to OKCupid, because if they don’t relay what kind of person you are, I don’t know what will.  I will be aiding in thousands of lost souls finding their mate.  It reminds me of my former roommate who worked at a DSW.  Her job title was “Mismatch Specialist” which meant she went on scavenger hunts searching for lost shoe mates all day long.   I had no idea jobs like this existed… but if there are Mismatch Specialists for shoes, why not have Mismatch Specialists for people?

Rules & Regulations

13 Jul

If you asked me a year ago about the “type” of guy I am into, I would’ve probably responded with “Tall, and dark-haired.”  That hasn’t changed, but, thanks to my newfound experience in blind dating, I have developed a clearer picture of what I look for in a man.  I can’t lie– I love dudes.  Guys who like sports, eat meat, drink beer, and dress well enough… but not TOO well.  Men that wear designer clothing and are into fashion are a turn off.  Men who do yoga, stuff their junk into spandex pants, do cleanses, and watch their figure are a turn off.  Intelligent men who are funny, can take a joke, know the difference between “your” and “you’re, and are good at writing are a turn on.

Back in December, I laid down some ground rules for men on OKCupid:

1.  Must be over 5’11.  (This rules out about 95% of the website and maybe 75% of Manhattan.  The odds are not in my favor.)  ***I have since upped this requirement to 6 feet***

2.  Must be over 26, and under 40.  ***This is now 26-36***

3.  Must not use “OMG” “LOL” “Kewl” or “Laters.”  (This really should apply to everyone in life, but it’s much more offensive coming from a straight adult male.)

4.  No white pants, man flares, Steve Madden dress shoes, or eyeliner. (Graphic tees are not preferred but can be allowed on a case-to-case basis.) ***Add to this- no shoes with toe slots, Jncos, outdoorsman gloves, jazz shoes, rosary beads, spandex, or any pants tighter than mine.***

5.  Do not ask me to Skype with you.  (For some reason meeting someone for the first time in person is way less creepy than meeting them on a computer screen while you’re sitting alone in your room drinking a Mango Madness Snapple next to your dirty underwear.)

6.  Absolutely no ice chewers.  (You could be the most amazing person on the planet, but the second you pop that cube in your mouth, it’s over between us.)

7.  Must have lips.  (I am not physically attracted to terriers.)

 

When I made these rules for my potential dates, I forgot to make some rules for myself as well.  Here are my new rules:

1.  Use caution when giving my name out to strangers from the internet.  My first name is unique and it’s extremely easy to google me and find out all of my secrets!  My middle name, on the other hand, is one of the most common female names ever… so maybe I should start using that for anonymity…

2.  DO NOT under any circumstances tell guys from OKCupid about my blog, even if we hit it off.

3.  DO NOT go over to anyone’s place the first night I meet them.  I am a lady.

4.  DO NOT sample anyone’s wares on the first, second, OR third date.  As my Grandma says “There is nothing wrong with a roll in the hay… as long as they know that’s all it is.”

5.  If I hang out with someone multiple times and perhaps even start to like him a little,  DO NOT ask him about the other girls he is going out with from OKCupid.  At the time, it always seems like a good idea… It’s not.

6.  Must wear pants on dates.  Or skirts, dresses, etc.  No long t-shirts paired with only undies and a harness boot.  That happened.

 

Two weeks ago, I disabled my account on OKCupid and took a break from dating.  Time to get back on the horse!

OKCupid 101

18 Jun

OKCupid should really just hire me onto their staff.  I don’t want to brag, but I am pretty much a pro at this point… the fact that I am single is inconsequential.  For those of you who have never had the pleasure of experiencing OKCupid, allow me to briefly explain how it works.  After you fill out your initial profile, you have to “Improve your Matches” by answering as many multiple-choice questions as you wish.  The idea is that the more you answer, the higher potential match percentile you have with people.  There are questions regarding relationships, sex, common sense, and religion/politics/ethics, etc.  For example: “Which makes for a better relationship? A) Dedication, or B) Passion.”  You answer for yourself, then you choose which option you want your ideal partner’s response to be.  Then you rate (from Mandatory, Very Important, Somewhat Important, or Not at All Important) how important it is that he (or she) answer that way.  If you really want to be an eager beaver, you can add a brief explanation for your selection such as “Without passion, what else differentiates us from the pebbles at the bottom of my fish tank?!”  If you and some random user both select “Passion” and determine that it is “Very Important,” you’ve just upped your match percentile… and chances are it’ll totally work out between the two of you.

Another example:  “If you turn a left-handed glove inside out, it fits: A) On my left hand, or B) On my right hand.”  In this case, I would answer “A) On my left hand,” check the “Very Important” box, and then add my explanation: “My doctor messed up my prosthesis, so I only have left hands.”  And I’m one step closer to finding a match!

Or “Have you ever written anything on the wall of a toilet.”  My answer is no, and this is VERY IMPORTANT.  Explanation: “The porcelain throne is a sacred place; one that cannot be blemished, be it by sticker, sharpie, or rampant fecal matter.”

Or “Which of the two would be your preference: A lifetime supply of your favorite snack food or a 30-minute orgasm? A) Orgasm, or B) Duh, give me the snacks!”  VERY IMPORTANT.  Explanation:  “The orgasm is only 30 minutes.  Pshhhhh, the snacks are forever.”  You get the idea.

There are a lot of questions involving smelling and tasting different areas of your partner’s body and clothing, as well as many other fetish questions.  I generally steer clear of those questions, with the exception of these two (which are my favorite):  1. “How does the idea of getting slapped hard in the face during sex make you feel? A) Horrified, B) Aroused, C) Nostalgic, D) Indifferent.”  Clearly the correct answer here is “C) Nostalgic.”  Explanation:  “Awww, that reminds me of the way Uncle Gerald used to slap me across the face during our Sunday morning fishing trips, before he got fatally maimed by a bear upstate.”  2. “Would you consider a relationship where you would take on an exclusive sexual role as master or slave?  A) Yes, as the master only, B) Yes, as the slave only.”  Is this real??  Has one of the people in charge of making up questions for OKCupid been involved in such a relationship?  I love “Yes, as the master only” and how the only men I’ve seen answer this question are nerdy and scrawny.  At least they are laying all their cards right out on the table.

The question that always amazes me is “Do you think women have an obligation to keep their legs shaved?”  It is astounding how many men on the website answer this with “Yes.”  Maybe because of the way it’s phrased… but it makes me mad.  Sure, everyone prefers a shaved leg on a lady, particularly during the summer months…but obligated?  That’s a bit much.  Of course this was one of the questions that the JK/LOL man (from my latest Pick Up Lines post) answered.  In fact, I took note of his answers to several questions because they turned my stomach even more than when he said shopping with his mother was “gay”.  Here they are:  Do you think that women have an obligation to keep their legs shaved?  “Yes.  Don’t be a dyke.”  Do you think that a girl who has slept with 100 guys is a bad person?  “Yes.  Don’t be a slut.”  Could you date someone who does drugs?  “No.  Don’t be a crackhead.”  Would you consider having an open relationship?  “No.  Quit being a whore!”  Is astrological sign at all important in a match?  “No.  Stop being crazy.”  OKCupid thinks that I am an 80% match with this creep, but if I ever saw him in person I would probably punch him in his misogynistic face.

To end on a happy note, here are my favorite two messages from my inbox this week:

Guy 1: “Can I take you out for a drink?  Anything will beat my last two dates.  The first was a morbidly obese girl who sent me pictures of herself eating ice cream in only a bra & challenged me to an ice cream eating contest.  The second was a married couple and the husband kept calling me a bull stud and ordering me to plant my seed in his wife.”

Guy 2: “Hi there!  As my profile states, I have really big calf muscles.  Do you have any abnormally large body parts?”

I have a good feeling about this week.  My mystical tea leaves told me there will be at least one keychain coming my way!