Lorraine Says: Fever in my Atmosphere
1 hour ago
It feels like we left you again, doesn't it? We kind of did. We traveled all the way to Moab, Utah, with twelve other lovely people to celebrate Bonnie's birthday. And it was glorious. Look:
Bonnie's birthday was amazing and Moab is insanely gorgeous. Never been? Get yourselves there immediately. So yes, Hawaii, Utah, LA, Portland. We're crazy travelers lately. And while there have been some seriously messed up dating stories mixed in there (many a lesson was learned about email-only and text-only relationships), for the most part we're enjoying a boy free summer.
And HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BONNIE! Your cousin (and everyone else here) loves you.
Happy Thursday, lovely readers! Look what I have for you: another guest post! And this one is from A BOY. A boy who is actually a good friend of mine from way back in the day, Cody.
We may or may not have made out when we were 16. And it may or may not have been awesome.
He is wonderful and funny and gentlemanly and smart (and single, Portland ladies!). And super attractive, obviously. I've always been interested in getting a man's take on Match (and the opinion of someone I didn't actually MEET on Match) and now I have one. Thanks, Cody! After hearing this story, I gave him some tips to potentially help him prevent these kinds of situations in the future but I'm sure he'd love feedback from all of you, too. So, without further ado, here's Cody's story:
Let me start off by first saying, I am NOT a writer. I mean, I know the alphabet and all and I’m a good speller but, again, not a writer. However, despite my tragically inept ability to write, Lizzie’s prompting and the urge to tell this classic story has trumped my fear of embarrassment. But, then again, I’ve never been one to embarrass easily,so here we go.
Ok. So. I’ve never really been the kind of guy who “dates.” Instead, I’ve always been more of a “long term relationship” guy or “met you at the bar last night then dated you for 4 years” guy. Anyways, several of my friends have met their current relationships through online dating, and one of them actually got married, so I decided to try out Match.com and see what came of it. I had the best of intentions, I swear…
I began by emailing like a drunken idiot looking for a booty call at 3 am. And by emailing, I mean I wrote one universal email and copy and pasted to any girl who had pictures I deemed worthy. BIG MISTAKE. HUGE! (Screening is necessary. Thanks for the tips, Lizzie!) Not to mention a complete fucking waste of time, as responses were slim to none. But why? Maybe the lack of writing skills? The lack of a personal touch? Possibly. So I found myself wondering how many of these chicks that I was writing to were real. Then… the delightful people at Match.com (oh, you sweet, humorous assholes) started sending me my “Daily 5,” which should really be called the “Daily Deleted.” I finally realized that these were actually real women, as many of the women showing up in my “Daily 5” were friends or exes… Awesome!
However, it was very humorous to see the absolutely misguided bios of a few exes, most of which made me laugh out loud. Example: “wants a guy who has his own friends and appreciates someone who needs their own space as well as giving me mine.” Yeah, so you can fulfill your secret passion of stalking every girl who comments on my profile posts and jealously calling and texting to find out where I am every half hour. Awesome. I might as well have been trying to get dates on Facebook. Seriously.
Finally, I get a return message. Unbelievable! I’m so thrown off I don’t know what to do with myself. This is a good thing, I think to myself. Right? Sure! Now, of course I had no idea what to say since I used up all the “good stuff” in my intro email (remember, not a writer). We exchanged what I thought were several incredibly half-assed attempts at getting to know someone. You know the ones: What do you do for fun? What kind of music do you listen to? What food do you like? What’s your favorite color? Etc. After several more embarrassing attempts of showing interest, we exchanged names and numbers. Her name was Harriet. Harriet likes horses, good food, and having fun.
So we decide to go to a movie, then dinner. Yes, in that order. Why I decided to go sit in the dark next to a stranger and not talk for two hours is way beyond me. What better way to get to know someone? So I picked a movie that I’d already seen and liked. I did this to gauge whether or not she could watch, understand, follow, and basically recognize what I thought was a great movie, or if she was just a fucking idiot who only watched stupid movies with no substance (which I also enjoy, but it’s necessary to appreciate the difference).
I show up first and, of course, there’s a line. I’m looking frantically around for someone who marginally resembles the photos I’d seen and nothing. Finally, I see an awkward looking girl at the end of the line. By awkward, I mean she looked exactly like I did when I showed up (head jerking around in every direction while unintentionally walking in circles). She looked like she might have just come from either the filming of a depressing western movie, or possibly from her job cleaning horse stables. Okay, maybe that’s a stretch. She was wearing a….well, what appeared to be some kind of western boot that had the little frilly thing over the laces, striped socks coming out of the boots, some kind of pleated skirt, a terribly embroidered white shirt that obviously was not designed to accentuate her features, which were also covered up by a green poncho-looking shall/cardigan thing. So basically… totally hot! Her hair was frizzy, like a horse. Did I mention that she looked nothing like her pictures, and considerably heavier than advertised? That’s not necessarily against the rules (side note from Lizzie: It’s totally against the rules), since I’ve dated bigger chicks before. But when you’re thirty it’s not appropriate to put your senior picture up as your profile picture
So, anyway, she was also on the phone. Naturally, I was praying: please don’t let my phone ring, please don’t let my phone ring…. RINGGGGGG!!! So I answer and, sure enough, my date/leader of the 4H club was this girl at the end of the line. I say hi, and we awkwardly shake hands. Nothing is worse than a hand shake on a first date. NOTHING!
I decide that we should probably go to dinner first because of the line, so we walk down the street to possibly the worst Mexican restaurant I’ve ever been to. The waitress comes to take our order and asks if we want anything to drink.
She replies: “No thanks, I don’t drink.”
I think, “What the fuck?” (This is not a good sign, for those wondering)
Me: Well, I’m going to have to! I’ll have a Dos Equis, please.
For the sake of saving you from the boredom, I will not list the contents of the short conversation we had between chewing our food. Basically, I deduced that she really liked horses a lot. Like, A LOT. She grew up in the country with no friends. This made her incredibly socially uninteresting, which was not her fault, but it was still a major deterrent.
Three beers later, we finished eating and walked over to the theater.
At this point I ask myself, WHY? WHY DID I SUGGEST A MOVIE, AS WELL?
So we walk in and I see my savior: sweet, sweet nourishing beer. I stop and order a pitcher.
Her: You like to drink a lot, don’t you?
Me: Uh… yeah. Tonight I do.
I was basically hoping that the beer would help me get through the rest of the evening and was trying very hard at this point not to be rude and leave. I eventually asked her if she would like a soda or something.
Her: No thanks, I don’t drink soda.
Me: Of course you don’t.
Me: I think the movie is starting, so let’s go get our seat.
Did I fail to mention that we were watching Shutter Island? And did I also fail to mention my love of Scorsese films.? Consider it mentioned.
After it was over, we walked out and I asked her how she like the movie:
Her: I didn’t get it…
Really? They pretty much drew a fucking map for you at the end there.
Me: What didn’t you get? Maybe I can help.
Her: I don’t know, I just didn’t like it, I guess. It was too confusing.
At this point, and I’m not sure why, but I actually contemplated explaining the movie to her, but then realized that I was almost done with the date, and that I could get the hell out of there.
Me: Fair enough, I feel that way about movies sometimes. So where did you park?
Her: Over in the parking lot of that bar.
Me: Oh, me too.
So we walk together and I’m just ridiculously happy this disaster is almost over. Finally, I look in the direction of my car:
Me: WHAT…… THE……..FUCK!?!?! Where is my car?
Her: I don’t see my car either.
And then I see it. I’ve seen it a thousand times before. In fact, it’s notorious for happening at this particular bar (which happens to be Chopsticks): A huge Sergeants towing sign.
Anyway, we call the tow yard, but have no way to get there and it’s almost midnight. She calls her roommate, who graciously comes to our rescue about an hour later (more forced time together). She drops us off at the tow yard and we go inside to deal with the paper work.
Imagine that, a toothless moron working the desk on the night shift at a tow yard. GREAT!
Him: Which cars are yours?
Me: I just called in, the Mazda and the Honda.
Him: I don’t show any record of those cars coming here.
Me: You gotta be kidding me man, I just fucking talked to you bro, and you told me they were here.
Him: Oh, yup, here we go, yeah they just came in a couple hours ago.
Me: I know, I just talked to you!
Trying very hard at this point not to completely lose it as he hands me the receipt with the fee on it:
Me: Two hundred and seventy dollars?
Him: Yes sir, sorry about that.
I wanted very badly to put my finger to my lips and ask him nicely to stop speaking. Instead I signed the slip and went to find my car. She was right behind me as we searched.
Me: There it is!
Her: There’s mine too!
Me: Alright, well have a good night (from a distance of about 20 feet)
Her: Ok, thanks for fun night.
Ughhhhh, it was finally over.
The next morning, I woke up to a text message:
Her: Hey, had a great time last night, just wanted to know if you wanted to go to the beach today, it’s supposed to be nice!
Really? You had fun? What kind of socially inept person thinks that was a great time? I mean, it was ridiculous in every possible way.
Me: No thanks, I’m busy.
And thankfully I’ve never heard from her again but that one experience has kept me off Match.com ever since.
READERS! We have missed you all so much! What have we been doing, you might ask? Well in addition to our usual activities, we have been working, playing and vacationing in Hawaii. Yes! The two of us, together, in a tropical location. Some might look at that as a recipe for disaster. We looked at it as a recipe for AWESOME. In Hawaii, we did the following:
1. Drank heavily (shocking)
2. Ate (Bonnie had a daily challenge to see how many eggs she could eat and at one point I ate an omelette AND a Belgian waffle at the same breakfast)3. Tanned (a necessity for those of us who live in Portland)
4. Read (Kathy Griffin memoir? BRILLIANT)
5. Swam (Bonnie has a severe and debilitating fear of sharks, but she even managed to scuba dive!)
6. Met NO BOYS.
Want proof of the fun?
But no, we have not been dating. Not dating? How is that possible? It's very possible, lovely readers. Necessary, even. But we're slowly getting back on the train and will have updates for you very soon. In the meantime, I have lined up some excellent guest posts for you to enjoy from other people who are experiencing the bi-polar ups and downs of Match. It's nice to know that Bonnie and I aren't the only ones dealing with crazies.
First up is the beautiful and talented Elle from one of my all time favorite love/sex/everything-in-between blogs, Sex and the Shitty. It just so happens that Elle is currently running a competition to win a free subscription to Match so for all of you who have been intrigued by what online dating has to offer, this would be a great opportunity to try it out. Plus, you'll all just love her blog. It's fantastic.Without further ado, let's see what Elle's been up to:
Okay, let’s just get it out of the way ahead of time: I’m not Lizzie, I’m not Bonnie. I’m not half as cool, funny, adorable, or ladylike as our favorite Match.com gurus. I am, however, here. And you… well, you’ve already read this far so you may as well continue. Think of me as the opening act. The headliners will return shortly, but until then you’re going to have to suck it up and deal with my noise.
Let me introduce myself, I’m Elle. I write on a blog called Sex and the Shitty – not Sex in the Shitty (that’s a different and darker realm entirely). I write about dating disasters in my less than fair city – or that is I did, until I went through a debilitating dry spell. It was during the drought that I decided it was up to my dehydrated fingers to save me (eww… not in that way). I clicked my way onto Match.com and soon the floodgates were open. I am now happily swimming in the cesspool of online dating.
I haven’t even been on Match.com for two weeks, but I have flung my cyber legs wide open. My date book has literally turned into a date book. And, once again, I have stories of debauchery filling the pages of my blog. Harmony has been restored to the universe.
My rationale for trying online dating is perhaps a bit controversial, but a lot of my perspectives on life, love, and dating are a bit controversial. I’m not solely on Match for the benefit of the blog, but I’m also not searching for Prince Charming. I do try to keep my focus on the fact that these are boys I’m dealing with and not toys, but sometimes the temptation is just too much. Sometimes I go on dates for the wrong reasons, like the time I went on a date with a guy because he was from Transylvania and I wanted to hear his accent. Believe me, accents over the phone are not nearly as epic as they are in real life. The date was fine, if you’re into the whole Count-Chocula vibe. I’m not, apparently.
I go into every date with low expectations. Very low. Yet, I still manage to be regularly disappointed. I was expecting close to nothing when I agreed to meet my most recent conquest, Josh, for coffee. I really threw this guy a couple of bones. I can’t say that anything about his pictures, profile, or messages was overly alluring, but he seemed like a nice guy – if not somewhat vanilla. The date was scheduled for Sunday evening. Friday night to Sunday morning had been filled with other dates, friends, extremely late nights, and copious amounts of booze. By Sunday afternoon I was exhausted and I seriously contemplated canceling the date. But, I felt bad about ditching him, and I figured a quick jolt of caffeine and some brief conversation couldn’t hurt. I jumped in my trusty date-mobile and jetted off to meet him halfway between our two fair cities.
I arrived first, and that sinking feeling started. I absolutely despise that awkward moment right before meeting someone. Pictures lie, that’s all I’m saying. With Josh, it was no exception. I’m surprised I even realized it was the same person. He looked nothing like his pictures. To my astonishment and low expectations, though, he looked nothing like his pictures in a truly amazing way. He was a fucking stud. I’m talking from like a 6 to a 9! How does that even happen?
We ordered coffee and, while in line, he told me a story about a lamb that made him seem like a really, genuinely sweet guy (and an animal lover: totally necessary). We went outside to sip our beverages and I must admit the conversation wasn’t the easiest. I was working. Conversation shouldn’t be work. My early diagnosis was that he had Hot Syndrome: gorgeous and thick as a brick. But, as the date when on, he eased up and started asking questions and giving more than one word answers.
Despite his inability to make scintillating conversation, Josh was surprisingly adept at awkward conversation. Being on a date with someone from Match.com is weird solely because you’re on a date with someone from Match.com. Even though it shouldn’t be odd, it is – in my opinion. I’m not embarrassed by it, but I also don’t need to go into great detail about it while on the date. Being on a Match.com date is kind of like having a big zit. It’s not really a big deal, bit it’s not like you want to sit around and focus on it. I choose to ignore that shit and pretend it doesn’t exist. Well this guy not only pointed out the zit, but he started fucking picking at it! Leave the goddamn zit alone! All throughout the date he managed to make me feel uncomfortable because he kept bringing up Match! First it was, “So, have you been on other Match.comMatch.com dates. Next it was the – awkward – phrase, “On your profile you said…” that preceded a number of questions or statements. And finally, it was his avowal of the specific women who are regularly messaging him. I was honestly expecting him to whip out his phone and show me pictures of my “competition.” I just wanted to close my eyes, plug my ears, and say, “I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care.” (Because, guess what? I don’t fucking care.) dates?” Then the question was followed by horror stories of his previous
As we sipped the last of our coffee, we started talking about sushi. He suggested we go grab some right then and there. The date had already been going on for an hour, but all in all, things were going well enough. He was hot. He was making me laugh (not in an “you’re brilliantly witty” kind of way, but in an “Okay I’ll laugh at your adequate attempt of a joke” kind of way). He seemed a little arrogant (but people in glass houses, right?). He also didn’t seem too into me (meaning I think he actually just wanted to go eat sushi and the date extension had little to do with me). Luckily for him, he was giving off a bit of an asshole vibe, and assholes – even the dumb ones – are my kryptonite! So, despite his over-the-top car and his douchey driving, I was still into the date and him.
Dinner was going well, until he made a comment that caught my attention and sent alarm bells reeling in my brain. I had asked him if he had any pets and he acknowledged that yes he did. His exact words were,
“We have two dogs.”
We.
We?
WHEEEEEEE!!!!
I prayed to god that I’d heard it wrong, or that “we” was referring to him and his super rad roommates, or that he had a girlfriend and the two of them were looking to add someone new to the mix. True, I wouldn’t be crazy about the latter, but it would have been far more refreshing than to hear what I feared. But I had to know. So I asked, “Who’s we?” And my fears were confirmed.
He lives with his parents. ‘Nuff said. Actually, that’s not enough said:
1) He still lives with his parents (Dude, you’re a grown up… grow up!)
2) He’s always lived with his parents. Always. (srsly?)
3) He’s never lived anywhere but in his *coughshittycough* city with his parents (so, in other words, he is just a typical guy from my shitty city, only he’s from another shitty city)
Sigh.
And with that my friend, another one bites the dust!
xoxo,
Elle
So instead you get two seriously awesome things today:
1. Coming off Bonnie's epically awesome list, it turns out women of all ages want the same thing.
2. There's this kind of crazy out there and we're worried about being single? Yeah... so, um... call me!
Happy Thursday! Oh, and if anyone knows single normal people in Portland, feel free to send them my way. Match is a big pile of crazy these days.
Let me just tell you one thing that I believe will let you know what kind of mind frame I have been in the last few days. In the last 48 hours, I have listened to Christina Aguilera's Fighter on a continual loop. I mean, just over and over and over again. I have probably listened to it over a hundred times in the last two days. No joke. So ya, that's where I am.
GOOD NEWS. I haven't been on match.com in three months, BUT I'M BACK. And from what I can tell, that little break made way to a fresh new dating pool. FUCKING BRING IT.
I don't feel this is the appropriate forum to talk about what happened with Friend X... Mostly, because he knows all about this blog... Also, because I have no idea what to even say...
You know when you think you're in a relationship, and then you realize, actually, you just made that all up in your head? YA. THAT SUCKS.
I've been hanging out with Friend X basically non stop for the last two months. He surprised me by turning out to be everything I was looking for... But, I guess the timing is off. Story of my fucking life. In the end, my feelings for him are much stronger than his feelings for me, and I don't believe he's being completely honest with me. I started to feel jerked around. I am a little heart broken... Okay, I am a lot heart broken.
I know what I want in my life. And it's not to be with someone I am trying to convince to love me. I also don't want to ever be around someone that makes me feel rejected all the time. Or someone who doesn't want to kiss me. I know what I want in my life, I just have no fucking idea if I'll ever find it.
Here are some things about me you should know to understand what I want...
1. I am really cool. I mean it. I'm adorable, I'm funny, I'm smart, I'm outgoing, I love taking care of people, and uh, ya, that's it. Basically, I am a fucking catch.
2. My friends are fucking amazing. I have the coolest friends. All of them, just awesome. And my family. And my relationships with all these people are strong and important to me, and being as cool as them is hard. If I am choosing who to spend my time with, and you want me to choose you, you better bring your fucking A game.
3. Due to the above statement, I have no interest in settling. I don't want to get married for the sake of being married. If I did, I'd be married. I would like to be with someone I really love and love being with, and if I can't be, I'm okay being alone. Really.
4. I have been in love before. For 8 years, with an amazing person, who still means a great deal to me. I crave the feeling. I like having someone I think of in good and bad times. I like having someone who inspires me in that way. I like building and sharing my life with someone who is always there.
5. I am done putting up with bullshit and working my life around other people's shit. Done. You need time to figure out if you want to be with me or not? No, you don't, because if you do, I don't want to be with you. I want to be with someone who knows they want to be with me. You have issues you need time to sort out? That's fine. I have issues, too. I ALWAYS WILL, but that doesn't put my world on hold. It's part of who we are. Give me all of you, or give me nothing. I am done being in situations where I put in 80 percent, and they put in 20. I am done chasing people. I am done with all that bull shit. DONE. I can't do it. I AM EXHAUSTED.
The moral of the story is... I AM A PRIZE. YOU NEED TO WIN ME. TRY HARDER.
Here's some god damn rules, Bonnie style...
1. HAVE A CAR.
2. Don't live with your parents.
3. Have a fucking job.
4. Live in LA.
5. NO ERECTILE DYSFUNCTIONS. I'M OVER IT.
6. YOU HAVE TO HAVE FRIENDS.
8. Be funny.
10. Don't own more hair products than me unless you have more hair than me.
11. Don't have more hair than me.
13. You're not better than me, or anyone I know. It's impossible. Don't act like it.
14. LIKE MUSIC
16. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, SHAVE YOUR BALLS IF THEY ARE FURRIER THAN MY CAT.
18. Don't wear underwear that are tighter or made from less material than mine. Ew.
19. KNOW HOW TO MAKE FIRE. (AKA: BE A MAN.)
21. Like football. (AKA: Don't be a pussy).
22. Don't purse your lips all the time. What is that? What are you doing? Are you a drunk sorority girl? Did you learn that from all the Bravo you've been watching? Have you ever heard of ESPN?
24. Confidence, confidence, confidence.
25. WANT TO KISS ME.
Do you think I'm being too picky? If you do, you are a fucking idiot.
Game on, match.com. SHOW ME WHAT YOU'VE GOT.
'Cause like Christina says, "I am a fighter. I ain't gonna stop."
UPDATE: I have now been listening to Christina Aguilera's Fighter for 4 days.
To this day, the best/most horrifying profile I have seen has been from Slow Hugs and Regards. I don't know that it can ever be topped with gems like:
"I added you as a Favorite it's because I have an Eyebrow and Thigh fetish and when I see a woman with smoking eyebrows, well, I am compelled to contact her to praise her's."
"I have never been with a woman over 149 lbs or over age 29."
"Zero are the amount of enemies I have had or will allow to exist."
"There have been many times my gal pals will assemble at my place to listen to tunes and eat some food I have prepared and some are known to get naked and practice their Jello Wrestling"
And, finally:
"I am the guy that goes out at 3am alone to go get TAMPONS or NAPKINS for my girl when she is bleeding and there is nothing else needed from the store except her pooty pads or you know...."
IT'S JUST SO AMAZING.
A friend of mine recently joined OkCupid and this afternoon I got an email from her informing me that Slow Hugs and Regards had apparently left Match and made his way over there. She recognized him from my post here and sent me his new profile. It was basically the same, but there were some new and fantastic additions that I thought you'd all like to see:
"I love to and prefer to cook and it would take some crafty female moves to get me distracted in the kitchen and let you take over the food, but likely, I will insist I cook and you can spectate.
I have made love with my young girlfriend in front of a small crowd for 2 hours to win a 100 dollar bet. No, we didn't need the money. We were needing each other and didn't want to leave the party so we ended up making mad love with spectators. I am fine with really anything as long as people know and Respect boundaries.
I married the same woman 2 times I am not one to give up. Her addictions took her down and I can't sail on that ship anymore with 'her' because that ship sinks and floats and has no stable future.
I am that guy that makes your body go limp from my focused attention on your pleasures.
I am that guy that will forget all those past questions and think of the bliss and love and happiness we have been and will create.
I am that guy that you have been looking for who will be the answer to all you want in a man but he was too busy learning life lessons marrying a drunk model 2 times before getting a clue there is no hope in that long gone camp.
I am that guy that will make your thigh quiver in the early afternoon because you just had a muscle memory twitch from our Morning Wood Love Making before work and you are starting to feel horny and can't wait to get off work and get with your man, ME!"
So yes, there you go. Doesn't everyone want to start online dating now? Because who can resist someone who will make your thigh quiver in the early afternoon?!
UPDATE: Photo now included. I hope your corneas are ready for this visual onslaught.
You're welcome.
I’ve said it before and I will say it again: if I go into a date with any sort of expectations, IT WILL FAIL. And this one was no exception.
Dylan was new to Portland, fresh off the plane from LA, and this was immediately attractive to me. I grew up in Portland, which, as all of you who still live in your home towns inevitably know, can seriously just blow sometimes. I run into people I never wanted to see again and often have those moments when I hear, “Lizzie? Hiiiiii!” Shit. I turn around and have absolutely no clue who the person is. Do I know them from middle school? High school? College? Work? Some random bar hook-up? Did I go on a date with them? Do they know my sister? It’s very stressful. So the thought of dating someone who doesn’t have any mutual friends with me on Facebook is incredibly appealing.
Plus, he was from LA and still had a house there. And I have a ridiculously huge crush on LA.
I put in a lot of effort for this date. I don’t know why, since I have learned time and time again that if I put effort in, the date is bound to be a disaster. But noooo. I self tanned and painted my nails and wore a pretty new dress. And the moment I walk in and see him from behind I am 100% sure it has all been a complete waste.
Now, I don’t get deceived much on Match. I screen pretty well before ever meeting anyone and have learned most of the little tricks men use (not enough pics, only head shots, very limited bio info, etc.). But I definitely felt led astray when I walked in. Dylan was at least 40 pounds heavier than his photos. 10 pounds? 15? No problem. It happens to all of us. But this was a good amount of extra weight. And something was just… off. He definitely didn't look like his pictures. Oh, he was also wearing what I can only describe as a cropped black leather jacket. So yaaa….
Anyone who dates online knows that there’s a certain etiquette: even if you walk in and immediately know it’s not going to work out, you give that person the courtesy of joining them for a drink. You do not just turn around and walk away and you don’t come up with some lame excuse to get out of there. You sit down, order something you can drink quickly and make small talk for 45 mins. So I did.
He had apparently gotten there early so he already had a drink. I was deciding what to have so I asked him what he ordered:
Him: A Long Island Ice Tea
Me: HA. Really?
Him: Yes, I can’t get into all this wine and beer stuff here. I’m a hard alcohol kind of guy.
Me: Umm. I drank those in college when I wanted to get wasted quickly.
Him: Well there are two things I’m really good at – looking good and drinking to excess.
…
Me: Fantastic.
The next hour consisted of a myriad of ridiculous conversations so I will include several snippets for you here…
On travel:
Him: I could never date anyone who couldn’t just pick up and leave for six months to a year. Those people are just so tied down.
Me: I like travel as much as the next person, but I also have a house and a job and a dog. You know, real life things.
Him: You make me sad.
On celebrity look alikes:
Him: You look like Katie from “No Ordinary Family.”
Me: Who?
He looks it up on his phone and shows me.
Me: Taylor Townsend from the "OC?!"
Him: Oh, ya, I guess so. “No Ordinary Family” is really good. You should watch it.
I DO NOT LOOK LIKE AUTUMN REESER.
Me: Well who do people tell you you look like?
Him: Oh, mainly Ben Stiller. Or Adam Sandler.
FALSE.
Him: Or, more recently, I’ve gotten a lot of Ed Helms. You know, Andy from the “Office.”
DING DING DING DING! Yes, a very unfortunate Ed Helms. I’m not going to go into too much physical detail here, but think even longer head, crazy weird teeth and a large paunchy belly.
On age:
Him: I don’t date women outside of their 20s.
Me: I’m 30.
Him: I know, you were borderline for me but you’re holding your age well.
Yep.
Me: You know one of my least favorite things some men do on Match?
Him: What?
Me: Don’t include their own age in their age range (he’s 34).
Him: Why should I settle? I’m a catch and anyone would be lucky to be with me. Especially around here.
Good, good. Tell me I’m old, but my body hasn’t failed me too badly yet and then insult my city. Listen, only I am allowed to make fun of the dirty, hippy, skinny hipsters around here, pal. Me and everyone else who grew up in Portland.
In the midst of all this stimulating conversation, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and text Bonnie about my rude, unattractive and quite possibly gay date and when I come back, Dylan has finished his Long Island and has a new, different drink.
Me: Oh – what are you having now?
Him: A Malibu and Diet Coke.
Aaaand the Camaro comment now has serious douchebag competition. The girl next to us, who was enjoying an appetizer while she read her book, literally laughed out loud and slyly looked over at me. Maybe something in her book made her laugh, but chances are very, very slim.
Teaches me for shaving my legs and putting in effort. Next time I want to get my LA fix, I’m just flying to LA.
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