Pop Goes The Weasel

You ever been on the computer and get one of those annoying pop-ups? It’s usually someone trying to sell you some insurance or they want to apply for “free” grant money to go back to school? I get them too. I’ve installed some fancy pop-up blocker to try and eliminate these things, which for the most part has worked. Unfortunately it doesn’t stop former “dates” from rearing their ugly heads. I suppose if I could invent a pop-up blocker for that I could retire in style. Sadly for now I will just have to eliminate them one by one.

“Mick” from my previous blog “The Truth Will Make You Flee” is one of my little pop-up pals and he decides to send me an IM out of the blue one day. My first thought is how do these damn men still have my contact information after all this time? I have long since deleted their names, numbers, pictures, email addresses and anything else I can think of. And after the way things end with some of them… really why would they want to contact me again? I decide to find out.

He tells me he misses me and not just because he wants to try and have sex with me. How friggin romantic. How could I ever resist?

He moves on to some small talk and then I guess after a few minutes he assumes I’m not going to tell him to pound sand and tells me he’s in town this weekend for a visit and would like to see me. Let the games begin! I ask him if he’s seeing anybody. Not really he says. What does that mean? He then goes into a tirade how he’s living with a woman but they aren’t really “together” that they WERE in a relationship but they just didn’t really hit it off and that the only reason that he’s still living there with her is that his name is on the lease. At this point I stop him and LITERALLY ask him if this is Déjà Vu. He actually seems puzzled by this which makes me laugh at him even more. I tell him based on the circumstances I will decline his invitation for an evening out.

He then tells me that he’s moving back to Orlando at the beginning of the year and he would like to keep in touch but to ONLY contact him via his Yahoo IM. Well that doesn’t scream “red flag” now does it?

I tell him sure; we can keep in touch, as long as he goes to my website and becomes a fan. And don’t forget to go to my Facebook page and “Like” me there. Well don’t you know the dumbass does it! Now tell me how on God’s green earth you can go to a website named KateHatesDates.com knowing full well that you have DATED me and not start to maybe read some stuff? Not only that but he then also goes to my Facebook page, “Likes” it which allows me to see HIS page which tells me not only that he is “in a relationship” but it actually also give me her name! You have GOT to be fucking kidding me! Do men actually think that we women are THAT lonely and desperate, or just plain stupid? Whichever one it may be is irrelevant to me because I am still very much in Man-Cation mode at this point.

Mick thankfully hasn’t popped back up since our little conversation and I’m hoping that’s because he finally stopped to read a blog or two and maybe one of them rang a bell. But considering that to this very day he’s still a fan of mine on Facebook, I seriously doubt it.

Deja-Ewwwwwww

It’s been awhile since I’ve felt the inspiration to write a blog. Honestly I miss the writing much more than I miss the dating, but I’m sure there are one or two of you wondering what is going on in my life so I thought I would catch you up to speed.

I have dubbed my new found disinterest in dating “Man-Cation” (I’m sure there is some TV network I’m supposed to give credit to for that catchy phrase but who it is has escaped me at the moment) I thought that I would have some new amazing discoveries or develop an interesting point of view being separated from the male species but it just doesn’t seem to have happened yet. I’m waiting.

I guess I somehow assumed that my new “fuck off” attitude would be obvious to the opposite sex and they would avoid me and let me go on my merry way. Nope. Like, in most of my blogs, I’ve turned out to be wrong. The ones that don’t really know me seem to get the drift, but the old ones… They KEEP popping up which I surely don’t understand. It’s like I’m in some kind of sick man re-cycle program. Well this girl might be going “green” but it’s only because they make me wanna puke.

While I was sleeping “Two Buck Up Chuck” apparently showed up one night and stuck a note written on half a ripped piece of paper (I’m sure some other girl was lucky enough to get the other half) and inserted it in a brown grocery sack under my windshield wiper explaining to me how he’s grown up & misses me and wishes I would give him another chance. I guess three just isn’t enough and despite the fact that this was extremely creepy knowing he was lurking outside of my house in the dark, I decided to see what kind of maturing he had done.

We had a brief conversation where he vowed to make more time for me and not be a cheap asshole anymore and that his next day off he would call me so he could take me out. I can’t wait.

Wednesday night rolls around and my phone rings sometime after 11 PM. “Ralph” asks me how I’ve been, tells me he’s calling to check on me and asks if he can some see me. “Now?” I reply. He says yeah. To which I reply “ummm, I don’t think so. Weren’t you going to take me OUT?” He says “Oh yes of course I am I’ve just been so busy and I didn’t want you to think I forgot about you.” Even in my Ambien induced state I’m NOT falling for this one. I tell him when he can make a DATE. Call me.

Saturday night arrives with another phone call from Ralph. It goes a little something like this.
Him: “Can I come see you?”
Me: Now?
Him: Yes.
Me: Hmmmm, no.
Him: Why Not?
Me: Because you don’t get to just call me after 10 on a Saturday night and assume that I’m going to drop whatever it is I’m doing for you to try to come over and convince me to give you a piece of ass. Besides, I told you NOT to call me unless you were taking me OUT.

He apologized, tells me I’m right and that he would call me in the morning to make plans. WHOA! Didn’t see that one coming. Except, he doesn’t call me in the morning. He sends me this long ass text telling me that he thought that I was going to be different this time and that he’s soo busy with work and he’s spending all his free time trying to get into modeling…(OMG, you have GOT to be fucking kidding me)

So I decided to seize my opportunity and text him back. I send him the link to my blog and I tell him that he might find “Two Buck Up Chuck” interesting. I don’t know if he read it. Frankly I don’t care, but what I do know is that he hasn’t bothered me since. Life on “Man-Cation” is good.

Hold the Phone-y Baloney!

I get a call during my lunch on a Tuesday afternoon which I choose to ignore since it’s from a number I don’t recognize. I also ignore the second call from the same number minutes later, and the message that was left, I decided, until I'm at least done eating. But the third phone call gets the better of my curiosity and I answer, thinking this person has called me three times in a row. Maybe it's important.

Wrong.

The voice says “hi, it’s “Brian”, from the bar.” I am now scrambling my brain to try and remember who he is and I have to be honest the name’s not ringing a bell. So I decide to engage him in some conversation to listen to the voice and see if a picture pops into my head.

Oh does it ever.

I remember this guy because he was bugging the HELL out of me while I was trying to hit on someone else. (Who I have already blogged about so don’t get too excited) I remember Brian for a few different reasons.
A. He has the most piercing blue eyes I have ever seen in my life, and being a sucker for blue eyes I can’t help but notice. That’s where the good part ends.
B. He’s very skinny, leathery and looks like he knows his way around a crack pipe
C. He made reference to how much he likes “chubby girls” while waggling his tongue at me which apparently was supposed to be some sort of sign that he's generous and perhaps even good at oral sex

I quickly throw him a card with my number (yes, my real number) in an attempt to get him to go away so I can continue working on my next victim. The problem is then when he calls and I answer, he’s nice. He talks about his job and his family and how much he adores all three of his daughters, which he tells me, are all on the larger size. Damn, I’m a jerk. He ends the call asking me if I would mind if he calls me again in a few days. How could I say no?

A few days later, true to his word, he calls. Talks a little more about his life, asks about mine and towards the end of the phone call asks if I’m going to be at the bar that Friday so we can get to know each other a little better. I let him know that I couldn’t make it that Friday but I would definitely be there the next Friday after that. He says great, he can’t wait to see me again and tells me he’ll call me again in a couple of days.

Except that he doesn’t. Nothing, poof, gone. WTH? Seriously? This guy wasn’t even my type but since he was nice I decided to not judge the book by its cover. I mean after all I am certainly not the specimen of womanly perfection by any means but for some old, wrinkly, God only knows if he even had all of his frickin teeth in his head jackass to just drop me like a hot potato. Well that is certainly a blast to the ol ego.

I will admit at this point I haven’t been back to the bar. I don’t know if I want to. I don’t want to hear some lame excuse of this or that. We all have issues, and at this point I’m not interested in his. Or any one else’s for that matter. Quite frankly I give up! Kate really does hate dates. This my friends, just might be the death of my blog.

Who's Your Daddy? Ummm, Yeah, Not You.

I am not a rich woman. I work for what I have like everyone else. Most days I like my life, my job, my car and the roof over my head. But then there are those “other” days. The days I wonder what it would be like to live the “good” life. What IS it like down on Easy Street?

I decided that I had enough of hearing the excuses of the “common man” on all the regular dating websites. Tired of the unemployed, under paid and just plain broke ass men telling me why they can’t take me here or there, asking me to split the check when they did or just plain dashing out on the bill all together.

I had heard rumors that there was a website exclusively for “Sugar Daddies” and the women interested in getting one. Well if that didn’t have my name written all over it then I don’t know what does. I put up my profile and it doesn’t take long before “Donald” sends me an email asking to take me out. I tell him to meet me at a place that I had been dying to try.

He shows up and he’s just…….. eh. Not really my type but he did drive an awful long way to meet me so I decided to put the lack of attraction aside and hope that his personality is going to win me over.

Nope, not even close.

He decides the best topic of conversation would be his ex. Who is a stripper. Seriously? (On a side note please tell me how you go from a hot skinny blonde who can shake it with the best of them to well, ummm, me.) He tells me of how he would woo her with jewelry and that his jeweler knew exactly how to make the fake stuff look completely real and how the ex was none the wiser. Wow. Guess I know what NOT to put on my Christmas list.

The evening wears on; we check out a band and have a few drinks. Certainly not the worst date I have ever had and since I know I’m not going to have to foot the bill I’m good with the whole thing but I’m certainly not interested in a second date and from the vibes I’m getting I think it’s a mutual feeling. So man was I surprised when at the end of the date he goes for the goodnight kiss and asks if I want to head to a hotel with him because with all of the women he has had long term relationships with they slept together on the first date.

Wait for it…… wait for it…….

BBBBBWWWWWAAAAAAAAA HHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAA HHHHHHHHAAAAAAA!!!!!!

Do chicks really fall for this crap? Just because you’ve got a few more dollars to spend on a date than the average man you think I’m going to just hop into bed with you? Um sorry, your last romantic encounter might have been with someone who had relationships for money but that is NOT the case with me.

After I’m done laughing in his face I tell him I’ll pass and happily go home ALONE. Maybe I’m crazy but after that I decided that I would much rather be with a blue collar man that works as hard as I do for everything he has. Besides, these kinds of men may not have a lot of money but they are usually not afraid to work hard to please a woman. That’s worth a cheap date anytime if you ask me.

One Pill, Two Pills, Red Pills, Blue Pills?

I know I whine an awful lot about online dating but there are some advantages. You can keep people at a distance. You can block people who annoy you. And until, if ever, they send you a real picture of themselves they can be as good looking and romantic as your mind can imagine. But realistically the more time you spend on line talking to people the more you hear the same old story. Over and over and over. Sometimes, you just have to turn the computer
OFF

I decided that this was exactly what I was going to do one evening. I gladly exited Cyber Space and waltz my fat rump right into my local hole in the wall bar. I was immediately hit with a wall of smoke and bad karaoke. It was perfect. Exactly what I needed to get my mind off the stresses of my life. I was there to hang with friends but I have always got an eyeball out for a good looking man. Or maybe a blind one or just really drunk one.

As the evening wound down I decided to just sit at the bar and chat with a friend from work. She and I were in the middle of chatting when I notice a man sitting at the end of the bar so I ask her to go get his story. My friend Shannon comes back after giving him my “business card,” announces that he’s in fact single and thinks I’m pretty. (So nice to have a great wingman) So we all start to talk and Shannon slowly makes her way out of the conversation so the two of us can chat. “Mac” seems like a nice, funny southern gentleman. We make small talk, tells me he’s about 10 years older than me, which I’m excited to hear when somehow eventually the topic turns to oysters and he mentions that he’s got him some at home. How can I say no?

I follow him home, we walk through the front door where he immediately goes to a door that’s open and shuts it. I shoot him a look. He tells me that he doesn’t want to disturb his 80 year old parents. Nice. He then tells me he’s glad that he’s finally home and getting something to eat because he needs to take his high blood pressure meds. And his high cholesterol meds. And his anti-anxiety meds but not to worry he’s still got some kick left in his 55 year old body. WHAT? What the hell happened to the mid forties that we discussed earlier? I’m starting to sweat.

We eat the oysters and he offers me a Coke Zero. I tell him I’m a Diet Coke girl myself when he mentions he can’t drink that because he’s diabetic. Man, it just keeps getting better doesn’t it? We eventually (despite all the red flags) head to the bedroom where things head from bad to worse. Apparently all the high blood pressure and cholesterol have got stuff blocked somewhere above the waistline because the goods below don’t work. Despite great effort on both of our parts that sucker wasn’t moving. Mac, quite embarrassed at this point, decides he’s at least going to try to make my night worthwhile. He’s been talking all night so I know his tongue works, now I just hope he’s good at what he does. Well he wasn’t but I figured I would let him be until he thought he was done when he announces “Oh crap, I can’t find my teeth!”

Let me just tell you, in this situation, there are NO words that can be said that can fix this. This is NOT a statement that can EVER be taken back. He eventually does find them. He tells me he took them out before he started which makes me feel slightly better but I don’t really want to know many more details than that. I make some quasi-plausible reason to leave and get the HELL out of there.

I get a obviously drunk dialed message about a week later from Mac about how he would love to take me out be he has to have surgery on his eyes and it’s really hard to save the kind of money he’ll need while he’s not working, and then some nonsense about a pre-nup, and then after about two minutes of rambling and slurring he ends the call with I love you.

Let me tell you my friends, the internet has never sounded better.

Beer and Boners Should Never Go To Waste.

I guess I shouldn’t JUST complaint about dating. I mean, there have been more than enough stories for me to share about that, don’t get me wrong, but maybe I should also mention the circumstances that have occurred while I was IN a relationship.

I used to be one of those for “better or worse” no matter what folks. Didn’t matter that my partner at the time got himself arrested at one point, thought it was OK to do drugs in the home where his children lived and didn’t share my viewpoint on what being faithful meant. By no means did I turn a blind eye to all that, I made my disgust known but for the most part he knew I was there for the long haul.

During this particular relationship, a dear friend of mine was having his 45th birthday party and I wasn’t missing it for the world. He and his supporting cast of characters are a sight to behold all on their own. Add alcohol to the mix? Hang on because it’s gonna be a wild ride!

The problem was I didn’t have a sitter so my partner was kind enough to drop me off and let me stay until I got my fill and then agreed to come and get me when I was done so I wouldn’t have to drive. I thought this was particularly nice of him. Come to find out later, of course, my ex had ulterior motives.

He instructed my friend to make sure I ALWAYS had a full beer in my hand and that a shot or two here and there wouldn’t hurt either. My ex hadn’t gotten some in quite awhile (from me at least) and I guess he figured if he got me tipsy that I would let my guard down. (Now don’t get me wrong, I LOVE sex and don’t normally have to be plied with alcohol or anything else to get me in the mood but when the person you’re with is screwing ANYONE who will take him up on his offer, I tend to get turned off. Besides why should I give you the PLEASURE of being with me when any cheap whore will do?)

So drink I did, and drink and drink and drink. All the way up until the phone call was made to my ex that it was time to come and get me. I was pushed toward the direction of the car, buckled into the passenger seat and sent off to do the deed. Things were going well. I managed to get in the house, get undressed and into the bed. My ex, very excited about this aspect got into bed with me and started touching me….. when I promptly sat up and ran for the toilet.

I was ILL. The room started spinning and things were not so settled in my stomach as they had been just a few minutes before. I’m sure, as most of you can guess at this point I spent most of the night and some of the next morning on the bathroom floor praying for death.

Since that fateful night I have learned some very valuable lessons. I now know when enough is enough. I have found a fool proof way to cure a hangover. And I have learned that a man with a nasty trick up his sleeve will always get his in the end.

As for still believing in the “for better or worse” thing? It took me a really long time once that relationship ended but all in all I still do. It’s just gonna have to be a whole lot more better and a heck of a lot less worse.

Any takers?

Going Off the Deep End

If I really stop to think about it, if I really go back and dust off the corners of my mind, I would have to say that I have never liked dating. I don’t like the stress. The wondering if he will call, the trying to remember if I have already worn this outfit, the questioning myself “when he meets my crazy family is he going to run away screaming “and of course why are all the idiots attracted to me? Take this story for example…

I go back to my time in school and the lazy days of summer where every year I looked forward to going to summer camp. This one particular year a new family had moved into town and their sons would be off to summer camp with the rest of us.

Now “Bubba” all on his own was not tragic, but when you put him together with his two brothers they gave off a weird vibe. Like, if you were to ever make out with one of them the other two would be in the closet watching. Maybe they would just giggle and whisper to one another but more likely they would be in there whacking off. In any instance, I wasn’t going to go there. Unfortunately for me, the rumor was that Bubba had a crush on me. I avoided him as much as I could but when we took the trip to camp, things took a turn.

Apparently Bubba decides that he’s going to take advantage of his time at camp with all the long hot nights and start himself a summer romance. Word got back to me that he wanted me to meet him at the boat dock one evening after dark. Presumably to set the mood for our first kiss. I made up my mind that I wasn’t going. I thought that would be a pretty good signal that I wasn’t interested. All my friends kept pushing me though, telling me to at least meet him. I didn’t want to go, but peer pressure got the best of me. I was in the process of trying to think of any excuse I could to not meet him when suddenly, I had an idea…

I met Bubba at the appointed time and humor him with a few minutes of small talk. Make him think that I am interested. It takes awhile but he finally gets the courage to try and kiss me. He closes his eyes and moves in when “WHAM” I push that sucker right off the dock.

Now I see you, sitting there reading this and just chuckling to yourself. Imagining the splash of the water and the surprise look on his face. But that’s not how it goes down. Oh no, there is no actual water under the dock. It’s dry and instead of a splash there is a thud, and a quiet groan. I lean over the dock to where the ball of dust is rising from the impact and I tell Bubba from now on he better leave me alone. Shockingly he doesn’t argue back and I go grinningly happily back to my cabin and get a great night’s sleep.

Thankfully Bubba doesn’t bother me again and somehow I also manage to not get into trouble. I guess Bubba didn’t really want anyone to know he got his ass handed to him by a girl. I spend the next few days happily not worrying about boys or their silly little games.

Then just a few days later “Jud” walks around the corner and for me its love at first sight. Sigh... Bring on the next victim….

Breakin it down

Ah, the perils of dating. I have told many a story about my experiences and why I hate starting a new relationship. What maybe I haven’t made clear however is that I also hate being single. There are SOME perks to having a shoulder to cry on, a willing ear to listen and maybe even someone to watch out for me when I don’t quite know what I am doing.

Growing up I was lucky enough to have my dad around. He was a tinkerer. He had a garage full of gadgets and I would get to help him with his projects from time to time, so I know my way around a toolbox. I can even run a power tool or two. When it comes to cars however… Count me out.

I’m not so helpless as to not be able to change my own tire or anything like that; I just don’t deal with the mechanics of the whole thing. That’s one of the things men are good for. (I’m not bashing females that can wrench, if you’re into that, you go girl!)

I’m driving along one day, minding my own business when my car decides it’s time to give me some trouble. It’s sputtering, chugging and for the most part refusing my sheer will just to make it home. I manage it get it into a parking lot when the power steering gives out and the car decides that it is done. I call a tow truck and have it hauled home. Where it sits and collects pollen.

It sits in my drive way because I, the person who has no clue about engines or their inner workings, have decided that it has a major issue and won’t be able to be fixed cheap. So I walk to work. Day in and day out. Through the rain, the ridiculous Florida heat, dogs chasing me down the road and yes, even once tripping over my own feet.

One fine day when I arrive at work one of the other employees asks me, what the HELL is the matter with your car? I tell her I have no idea, but whatever it is, I can’t afford to fix it. She tells me that she is going to send her husband to my house to look at it and let me know what is going on. I am sooo excited. I am just praying to myself that whatever it is will be easy on my budget and I won’t have to suffer the commute by foot anymore.

He’s at my house not too long when he calls his wife and tells her to please let me know that there is a hole on the side of the car where you put gas and that makes the car go. WTF? You mean to tell me that I have been haulin my fat ass to work for SEVEN months because my friggin car didn’t have any damn gas? You have got to be kidding me! OMG, I am so embarrassed.

So my prayers are answered, I put gas in the car and off I go again. This should be the happy ending to the story. But, oh no. NOT me. It happens again! You would think the second time that I would have realized that it’s the gas issue but sadly, I do not. So once again my co-workers very patient hubby goes over and looks at it. Laughs his ass off and tells me that I might want to replace the gas gauge because no matter what I do, the car is always going to need gas to run.

Ok, so I’m an idiot. Maybe if I HAD a steady boyfriend I wouldn’t have had to go through all that nonsense. Of course walking to work to work for seven months probably did me some good. Who knows how big my ass would be if I hadn’t gone through that experience!

Waxing and Wayne-ing Part 2

Continued from Waxing & Wayne-ing Part I

For months and months after “Wayne’s” sudden departure I went through the motions of life but was never really “alive.” Being a single parent who once again was alone, I knew I had to get up in the morning, go to work, come home, and make sure the kids had stuff to eat, but that was it. That was all I did. Then one day I walked into my garage and woke up.

It was that day that I realized all his “stuff” was still there. Neatly boxed and ready to be moved whenever he was ready. But this day was different. I was ready for it to be moved. Five months was long enough. I didn’t really NEED the space in my garage for anything in particular but I NEEDED the space back in my head… and my heart.

I placed a call to his mother to arrange a time for him to come pick up his things. She called me back with a date and time and the plan was set in motion.

The day comes; I open my garage and wait for him to show up knowing my heart is going to leap out of my chest when the doorbell rings. But it never does. No. He instead walks right in. Like he still lives there, grabs me, holds onto me, starts to cry and tells me he loves me. My eyes fill with tears and I am completely speechless.

He walks around for a few minutes and looks at things but doesn’t say a word. I can’t help but wonder what is going through his head. I suggest that we move along and load up his truck. We head to the garage, I open the door and there stands his step-son. WOW! Now that takes balls! And here after all this time, him leaving me to clean up his mess I thought he didn’t have any left. Guess I was wrong. Especially after I had been so kind, NOT cussing him out, NOT setting his shit on fire on the front lawn like EVERYONE told me to do and storing his things for him all this time, he has the nerve to show up with his new wife’s kid. I decide to be the bigger person and I hold my tongue.

First load of stuff is in the truck & he tells me he’ll see in a few minutes to grab the rest. He never does come back. I call his mother later that evening to let her know that he has until 2:00 the next day to get the rest of his things or they are being donated. During this call she asks me if Wayne seemed quiet and if he walked around the house when he was there. Weird. I tell her as a matter of fact he did. Why? She said he told her that he was thinking. Wondering to himself if he really made the right decision.

I know for me at least, once I say “I do” that’s sort of the nail in the coffin for any other previous/potential relationships I might have had but I guess not everyone thinks the same.

2:00 the next day comes and goes. I make a phone call to a friend who brings his truck, in the pouring rain, no questions asked and helps me load it all up and take it away. 3:00 the phone rings. It’s Wayne. Too little too late. I never do answer the phone. I don’t need to nor do I want to.

I know at that moment I am free and a smile comes to my face.

Of course at that time I had NO idea what was waiting for me in the world of dating. If I had only known then what I know now…..