Happy Memorial Day!

Dear loyal readers,

This weekend I saw a sign that I thought I would share with you as I wait for more freaks to come along:

Better to have loved and lost than to spend the rest of your life with a psycho.


Happy Memorial Day!
~W

Dear Jeff the Freakshow,

You were another eharmony match.  Everytime you opened your mouth on eharmony, you inserted your foot in it.
Exhibit A:
You described yourself as a Christian.  When I asked about your spirituality, you said you didn't believe in any God. Huh?  By definition, then, you aren't a Christian.

Exhibit B:
I asked you to list ten facts about yourself.  You listed that you were an excellent kisser.  That should be a given, but its really kind of weird that you think that is one of the ten most interesting things about you.  Or that i'd take your word for it.  Listen, I've kissed many a fool, making me an excellent judge.  It's kind of like being a lady. If you have to say you are, you aren't.

Exhibit C:
You sent an email to me. It read as follows:

Subject: sigh
Text: you are so beautiful and sexy


Seriously, you fool.  Does this ever work?  I mean c'mon. I closed the match without responding.  Because my response would have been:

subject: sigh.
text: you are neither sexy nor amusing.

And my momma taught me if you can't say anything nice... BLOG ABOUT IT!


Happy Memorial Day!  I'll be at the beach, remembering all our fallen soldiers.

-W

Dear Ryan the Choir Boy (again),

I remember you having one really awkward phone call with me, before you turned psycho.  As it happens, one of my friends D, is also on eharmony, and she mentioned talking to a guy named Ryan.  I warned her, and as it turns out, you had creeped her out as well.

Here are the creep factors you never explained to her: you changed your profile to say you are a lawyer.  You are not a lawyer.  You work at a church, and it is unclear if you ever graduated with a degree in Parks & Tourism (read: one of the easiest degrees ever to walk the face of earth). I mean great, tell a girl you are lawyer, and I guess she'll be impressed.  Or really pissed off when she figures out that you are actually a nutjob who lies about his profession to get a date.  If you don't like what you do for a living, own it and change it.

You also failed to mention to D that you live with your mother.  For real.  Again, no shame in that, but given that you are pushing 30, you should probably disclose that fact. Lots of girls won't date guys who don't have their shit together.  And living with your mom is likely a sign of not having your shit together.

So a bit of final advice for you Ryan.  Neither D nor I will be going out with you.  Turns out girls like us won't date creepers who lie about their education, profession, and living situation.

All the best,
W & D

Dear Child Custody & My Disclosures,

As promised, today's post includes a list of my initial disclosures.  But first, let me tell you about the absolute freak show eharmony matched me with.  On eharmony, you start out communications with 5 multiple choice questions, and then you move to open ended questions and then finally to email.  This fool's opening open-ended question was "Do you know a good child custody lawyer?."

What?!  Seriously, this is like the lawyer equivalent of being at a cocktail party and meeting a lawyer and immediately asking him/her about your STD.  Seriously.  Most lawyers won't touch child custody cases with a ten-foot pole.  Especially this lawyer.  Not to mention, it was a completely selfish question (read: did nothing to ask me about me) and it was just downright creepy.  Child custody issues usually involve baby mama drama.  I, frankly, don't want to get involved with someone with that much baggage.

Anyhow here is the list:

1. I am high maintenance.  No joke.  When I used to call my dad's office, his secretary would tell him "HM, line one."
2. I am southern.  Therefore, I expect certain things like having car doors opened for me, men to rise when I approach the table, and my dates paying for me. (relationship status will probably entail me picking up the check every now and again, but lets be real here, most of the time the guy should be paying)
3. I am a picky eater.  I don't like lobster, fish, or crab, but I love most other meat.
4. I don't eat vegetables, opting instead for junk food.
5. I drink, occasionally to excess.
6. I go to church almost every Sunday.  I will expect you to accompany me.
7. I was in a sorority and some of my best friends are sorority sisters, so if you don't like Greeks, move along.
8. I'm a lawyer, but I'm not rich. But I expect you to be rich.
9. Boyfriend duties will include getting my car oil changes, gas fillups and washes. I'd hate to break a nail.
10. I know I'll get plastic surgery eventually, so you need to be ok with that and ok with paying for it too.
11. I am a tease. For real.
12. I work a lot, so I don't really cook.  But to reward you for your bug killing, trash hauling, and lawn mowing, I will glady order us a mean takeout or make wonderfully splendid reservations.
13. You have to be ok with me turning heads and attracting freaks. I can't help it.
14. I have a dog. You must love my dog. We are a package deal.
15. I have a large, crazy (the good kind of crazy, not the bad) family.  We are also a package deal.


Happy Sunday!
W

Long Haired Freaky People Need Not Apply,

So, earlier today A and I were talking about how awkward first dates are, because you really don't know what to expect or at what point in the conversation the date is going to take a turn for the worst.  So we were joking about how I should ask a series of questions to guys before I agree to go out with them.  An application of sorts.  So here is what we came up with.  What would you put on your application?

1. What kind of car do you drive?  This is a first impression, so it is important to put your best foot forward here.  As a dude, your car better be nicer and cleaner than mine.  It's not a high bar, but it's a bar.
2. Where are we going for dinner?  You should have already made reservations somewhere, and it better not be a mega chain restaurant (except for Outback or Ruth's Chris).  Plan ahead and act like this isn't your first time at the rodeo.
3. What are you going to wear?  It had better not be jorts, cargo shorts, or glitter.  Your clothing should also be clean and ironed.  Put in some effort.
4. Are you a first date kisser? It would be good to know if you are going to make a move or not.
5. Did you go to college/ do you have a job/ do you have ambition?  Trust me, this seems to be an issue with some guys.  I work my tail off, and I don't do it to support a K-Fed.
6. Do you look decent with your shirt off?   I know I do, so you need to be able to accompany me to the beach and pool.
7.  What is your living situation?  If you are over 30, I am going to expect that you own your own home and no longer live with roommates.  And living with your parents is a definite no-no.
8. Are you married/separated/dating/baby daddy?  No explanation needed.
9. How many other girls are you texting, calling, dating, or banging?  I have a double standard here.  Your number had better be zero.  My number varies, depending on the day.  Sorry I'm not sorry.
10. Are you willing to act as a delivery service for cheese fries/cupcakes/frosties/snocones at random and various times throughout the week?  I get hungry at odd times.
11. Has anyone ever complained about your kissing abilities?  And your number of makeout partners cannot be as high as mine, but it better be more than your age.
12.  Are you a meathead?  If so, are you willing to mow A's yard, sans a shirt, while we sit on the deck with martinis and watch? Again, no explanation needed.
13. Have any of your exes ever taken a restraining order or sued you for any reason?  Dealbreaker for sure.
14. Are you a felon? Have you ever been arrested for anything?  Are you currently being sued? (Trust me, this has already come up this summer)
15. What products do you use in your hair.  If you use more than one, we will never work out.
16. Does anyone refer to you as a douchebag, asshole, jerk, creeper, etc?  Do you deserve the title?  I had enough douchebag to last a lifetime already, so that limit has already been reached this year.  Zero tolerance policy now.
17.  Do you have a yippy rat dog or a cat?  If yes, this would never work out.  Manly big dogs are ok and a plus.
18. Do you know how to use a grill and do you use it often?  I like steak.
19.  How much debt do you have and what is your credit score?  Dave Ramsey advises this. And so does my daddy.
20.  Do you go to church? Do you believe in Jesus?  Again, dealbreaker.  And no, mormons don't count.


So there it is.  An application to date me.  Not too crazy.  Stay tuned tomorrow when I provide you a list of initial disclosures about me. (# 1 is I am high maintenance).

-W

Dear Brian the Ex & Peaches,

Oh Eharmony.  You did it again.  You sent me not one but two matches that I already knew.  This is in addition to the matches that have mutual friends with me.

First, you matched me with Brian, H's ex.  H dated Brian throughout college, so I knew a lot about Brian from H.  H & I went to Spring Break in Vegas our senior year.  Upon our return, Brian  dumped H out of the blue.  It was really random, but given that Brian was a dead weight around H's neck, I was relieved.

Seriously, H was my bff, but I had met Brian on two, maybe three occasions. Seriously, the dude was a complete introvert.  He never went to parties with us. Ever.  He wouldn't even be her date to AKPsi functions.  It was really strange, and we often wondered how someone so outgoing as H would be with a hermit.

Well imagine my surprise when I clicked on my new matches and saw his face. HOLY SHIT, I exclaimed.  Immediately, I called Holly. No answer. (it was roughly around 3 on a Friday, so she was still at work).  I texted her to CALL ME BACK ASAP.

So, she got out of her meeting with her VP.  Because this was some important stuff.  So I read her Brian's profile.  It was hilarious.  He mentioned at least 10 times how much he liked to hang out with friends.  What friends, Brian?  If you don't have friends in college, you'll never have them.  And then there were the numerous mentions of how much he enjoyed going out and drinking.  The two things he HATED in college. Seriously, it was the most complete BS profile ever.  Further, he listed his occupation as student.  The last we heard, he was managing Applebee's... Aim high, Brian.  And, he listed himself as a year younger than he actually is. Awesome.

Then today, I got matched with a guy I went to high school and college with and the guy I gave the nickname of Peaches (not really sure why).  Poor peaches.  Nice guy, but no thanks eharmony.

-W

Dear Jay the Puker,

So this weekend I attended the wedding of H & S in Virginia.  It was a beautiful wedding for two of the nicest people on God's green earth.  I loved every minute of it.  At the wedding was Jay the Puker.  S had set me up with Jay the Puker when both Jay and I were summer associates in Raleigh after our second year of law school.

The first date was a blind date and it was wonderful.  Jay brought me a white rose, had reservations at a nice restaurant, picked out a great bottle of wine.  The whole nine yards.  So, I agreed to a second date.  The night of the second date, I had a migraine and wasn't feeling well, but it was just a short drinks/dinner type of date so I told R, the girl I roomed with that I would be back home in time to catch So You Think You Can Dance.

So we went to Bogart's, home of the best martinis in Raleigh.  We each got a martini, and were chatting.  But Jay kept slamming back the martinis.  I was on my first one, he was on his third. Uh Oh.

 I did not know that Jay had been on a summer associate outing the night before.  For the uninitiated, prior to the recession, law students were treated like rock stars, didn't have to do any work as summer associates, and just had to sit back and be wined and dined all summer. Ah, the good ole days.  Anyhow, Jay had had numerous cocktails the night before, and due to the hangover, had not eaten a thing all day.  And now, according to S, Jay was on a date with me and very intimidated.  So I order us appetizers at the bar, because Jay was starting to slur his speech.  And I continued on to my second and third drinks.  I was on my third drink when Jay polished off his 6th and started to literally pass out face first on the bar.  I text P to bring in reinforcements.  Its going to be a much longer and more complicated night than I thought.

Holy crap.  Nothing in life prepares you for the point where your date passes out at the bar. Ever.  My sorority sister, A, worked at this restaurant.  She came up to me and tells me Jay is about to get thrown out of the bar, because you can't be passing out. Eff my life.  Jay drove us here. It is a second date, I have no idea where Jay lives.  So, I go to the bathroom where it was quiet to call S and bitch him out/find out where Jay lives so I can put him in a cab home.  No answer. Wonderful.

I come out of the bar to witness Jay being escorted out of the bar by security.  There is puke all over Jay, all over his suit, all over the bar, and all over the chairs. Disgusting.  Security asks me if I know where he lives.  I said no, but I would try to find out. Jay can no longer form a sentence, so I ask him to hand me his wallet.  He hands me a pukey wallet. Wonderful, what a lovely exchange of body fluids I did not expect.  And his license was from Virginia.  So the bouncers kicked him out.

Luckily, P had arrived and A was still working there so I had people to hang out with til someone could drive me home.  The bartender, feeling sorry for me, said "don't worry he left his bar tab open, so have more drinks."  So I did. I had a lot more.  And then I met a group of gay guys who were fascinated by what had just happened to me.  So I became BFF with them for the night.  Invited them to my birthday party and everything.  You guys should see the pictures from that night. Haha.

So undeterred by the group of gays surrounding me, Sam's Club wades through to introduce himself to me and ask me what was so hilarious.  So Sam's Club starts buying all my drinks.  We apparently had our first two kisses that night.  Neither of which I remember.  So, let the record reflect, that I started dating Sam's Club while blackout after I had a date get thrown out of the bar/restaurant for puking.

Jay called to apologize the next day, but I didn't answer and I just let it go at that.  I was dating many other guys at the time, and none of them had puked on me, either.  Jay, was a gentleman, however.  He called S to make sure I got home okay and he did tip the bartenders several hundred dollars for acting a fool according to A.

Fast forward to the bar exam the following summer.  Poor Jay and I get stuck on the same row.  So everytime Jay gets up, he has to walk right past me. So awkward.  And even though Jay and I are both attorneys in Raleigh now, our paths hadn't crossed again until this weekend.  And of course, we pretended we didn't know each other.  It was only polite.

-W.

Dear Kevin the Preacher,

(or why nice guys finish last).  You seemed nice enough in your profile and emails, so I gave you my number.  You started texting ALL THE TIME.  Good mornings. Thinking about yous. Have a great day! Sweet dreams. Etc.  We've never met, so it was a little weird.  It was really weird when you would send me messages of encouragement. About how you believe in me. you.have.never.met.me.  And as a result of my one and only phone call conversation with you, you will never get to meet me.

You called, I was getting ready to go the gym, but I figured how bad could a ten minute call be?  Really bad it turned out.  You started talking about how your job with computers and data protection were top secret... um, been there, got the t-shirt. Ask Sam's Club how that worked out for him.  I shut you up with "well I'm a lawyer, so yeah, I can't discuss my work. period."

But then you switched tactics.  And out of no where you brought up drinking. I made some sort of joke about knowing about drinking, being in a sorority  and all.  You seemed confused, and I found out why a few months later.  The drinking conversation was one-sided.  You proceeded to inform me of when it was ok for Christians to drink by explaining the three motivations Christians could have for drinking.  One of them was "coping."  What the hell?  If you are coping with alcohol and not Jesus, then I think you have problems. 

Clearly, I was disagreeing with his theories, but he wouldn't take a breath so I could get off the phone.  So on and on he droned.  And then he decided to tell me when Christians couldn't drink.  They can't drink to get drunk.  Ever.  Kevin, Kevin, Kevin.  Four days previous to this conversation, I was taking shots at 8am on a party bus to Beach Music Fest. I was drunk by 9am. I am a lightweight.  I weigh 95 pounds.  There is no drinking more than one drink without this Christian being drunk.

Luckily, you said you could back all this up with scripture. Fabulous.  Just what I need.  More lecturing! Yay!  At this point I said that I read the Bible every night myself, and I thought I could handle coming up with my own Christian drinking theories.  And I politely got off the phone, knowing that I would never go out with you.

You apparently didn't feel the same way.  My phone buzzed at 11:30pm.  It was a text from you.  Informing me that you don't actually have a college degree like your eharmony profile says you do. What in the world?!?

So, dear Kevin, whatever your theories are on drinking, just know that Jesus doesn't like liars either. 

-W

Dear Matt the Trickster,

In law school, a group of friends, including yourself frequented Outback Steakhouse.  We went there several times a month.  So when you invited me, I assumed everyone else was going.  I thought it a little weird when you asked if you could pick me up, but I politely declined and said I would meet you there.

Imagine my shock and dismay when you tell me upon my arrival that we would be dining alone that night.  But hey, its outback. How bad could it be.  So we are eating our cheese fries, chit chatting, etc.  I am mid-sentence asking you about your girlfriend back in China (a pattern in my life, I'm aware) when you blurt out "I have been in love with you since the day we met."

Shut.The.Front.Door.

Did that seriously just come out of your mouth?  Yes, yes in fact, it did. Sigh.  So now I sit there, mouth agape, through the rest of dinner, where you continue to profess your deep love for me.  So very awk.

I try to nip this in the bud, by repeatedly asking about your girlfriend.  You have the balls to say to me "I'll dump her if you want me to."  Seriously?  How romantic of you, to hedge your bets like that.

So somehow dinner ends and I make my escape. I tried my best to not be completely rude, but to make it clear, that sorry I was not interested.

But you were not dissuaded in the least.  A few weeks later when Valentine's Day rolls around, you ask me for my address. What for, I wanted to know.  You wanted to send me something. I suggested you not send me anything unless you send the same to your GIRLFRIEND IN CHINA.  You didn't get the hint and on Valentine's Day I arrived home to find a dozen or two red roses delivered. From you. How sweet.  I was still not interested.

Eventually you got the hint.  But instead of taking rejection like a man, you proceeded to tell everyone at the law school how I "led you on" and told you that I "had feelings for you."  And then you refused to be at any party I was attending for the ENTIRE 2L year.  IE- after you had a summer to get over me.

You, Matt, are a piece of work.  And next time, if you have to trick a girl into going to dinner with you, it means she's just not that into you. Period.

-W

Dear SPCA,

I apologize.  I had no interest in you.  But my friend's cat had some kittens and they were in need of new homes. So, in a somewhat inebriated state, I decided it was my personal challenge to find the kittens home.  And being as you were at the party, I decided that you were clearly qualified for pet ownership.

So, I picked you out a kitten.  And you took it.  And somewhere along the lines, we made out.  But that's beside the point.  I made out with lots of strangers in college (and thereafter, to be perfectly honest...) You came to a perfectly normal house party, and left, not with a girl, but with a tiny, adorable kitten.

A long time later, I was somewhere on campus or at another party or something like that.  The details escape me.  But you came up to  me and started a conversation.  I had no idea who you were.

SPCA: you don't remember me do you?
me: should I?
SPCA: well, we made out one time.
me: still not ringing any bells...
SPCA: and you gave me a kitten
me: Awwww! Do you still have it?
SPCA: yes, and she's the sweetest thing ever!


Moral of the story: My being a makeout whore gave a kitten a great home and lots of joy to this college kid's life. Don't you love happy endings!

-W

Dear Jason the Psycho,

Because sometimes the breakup crazy is funnier than my most recent dates.  The backstory: N went out with Jason the Psycho for a while.  Then she broke up with him.  Two months later they got back together.  After a few weeks Jason dumps here.  Two months later they are back together.  N decides they were broken up for a reason and dumps him for a final time after a week.  This is the response she got a few days later.  The comments in color are mine. Enjoy!

From: J <mailto:jason@gmail.com>
Date: April 19, 2011 11:45:32 AM EDT
To: N <mailto:n@gmail.com>
Subject: Funny thing

So I've gone through the phase where I feel sorry for you, that you truly might be helpless in causing these wrecks in your life. But in conversations with friends and family I've decided that, you know what - fuck you. (what an opening! he got a collective group of people to say fuck her? impressive, but mostly sad)

You get off easy in life because you're cute (most definitely) and bubbly (normal) and your family covers your ass (um if your family doesn't have your back, who does?). You've never had to really work for anything on your own (complete BS. N works her tail off), so you don't truly appreciate anything. You claim to admire that in others, but you never subscribe to it yourself.

I've been trying to decide whether you're insane(she didn't write this manifesto buddy, you did), the biggest liar in the world, or just the weakest asshole on the planet. I'm beginning to believe it's a nice mix of all three. For you to flip so quickly on so many occasions (guess i was right again!) this has to be the case.  All week and even Saturday (another great date) you want to marry me and live with me forever and sunday you're walking out AGAIN? I wanted to be mature about this(writing a manifesto like this is epic fail at being mature, buddy). I told you everything would work out for you, that your life would be beautiful, but again fuck that and fuck you. Your life will be a series of disappointments as long as you continue to not get help and live for other people or for God- as you claim...

I don't believe for a second your religious bullshit reasoning (and now we're bringing God into this. wow). You want to do Gods work? Start by acting like a good person and stop trampling through other peoples lives like a runaway train. You throw your hands up and shrug and say 'that's just me' well you know what? It's not acceptable. When your family is off and married or sick of your bullshit, they'll probably dispose of you the way they have your brother (again, total BS). Nice Christian values you're subscribing to. Fuck everything up- but I'll do some mission work- that will fix everything. I NEED TO DO GODS WORK .... but only of I don't get into grad school. What a fucking pathetic joke. I'm not sure you even half believe the shit you spout, I think it's just all part of the program. You live your life for the people who programmed you instead of yourself and yet you can't even be close to honest with them.

You threw away 'the one man ( probably the second, as the more you show your true colors, the more I realize you were either cheating or acting insane with Gabe too (N's ex husband, who she married really young. but you know that rule about not bringing exes up on first dates, same goes for breakups. also N never cheated, for the record)) that would love you despite your shortcomings. The one that can't help but still love you. That's being a good person. I'm forgiving myself for lashing out here because I know that deep down I've still got all the love in the world for you (because I know people who in the same paragraph called me an insane cheater really do love me deep down). Sad that I would still help you despite all of this. That's what let's me feel good about myself at the end of the day.

Thanks for showing me that the issues I've been having are not physical (this has to be my favorite part of the whole thing!  he couldn't get it up for other girls when they were broken up and HE TOLD HER THIS!!!! hahahah i love it!). I plan on utilizing that knowledge in the very near term with someone smarter, better looking and all around more whole. (so you went out with ugly dumb chicks on the breaks?  don't you know you are supposed to rebound with upgrades silly boy?)

I'm sure you'll be fucking way through Florida anyway (she went home to visit her parents...). You're 'i was pure while we were apart' rings pretty fucking hollow (she was by choice, you weren't except for your physical limitations). Your word is shit. Start by being true to yourself, and maybe someday soon- when your looks fade and you're staring at the walls wondering what has become of your life- maybe then you'll find some poor sap to take pity on you and finally make you an honest woman. Or maybe some random asshole you fuck will knock you up.. Who knows- good luck with that. (omg he went there!)

I still love you as much as I am furious with you. But really N, stop being a piece of shit and pointing fingers at your faith and family and own up to being a fuckup. And for once in your life, get off your ass and legitimately do something about it. Ohh I can't afford therapy (out of the two of them, if i had to pick one to send to therapy right now, it would be the writer of this email)... But I can drop 100's on clothes and 1000's on braces. Lies, bullshit and playing the victim- too bad there is no grad school for that right?

I was willing to take you away from it all- the excuses, the fake life you lead- I was willing to wipe the slate clean with you. A strong, smart, attractive and extremely capable man- and once again you look life's gifts in the face and spit at it.

Thanks for letting me out early I guess. You're a fucking idiot, have fun lying to yourself and letting your family ruin your life.

Good luck in life, you're going to need it.

Sent from my iPhone (he typed all this on an iphone! such dedication to looking crazy!)

Dear Ben the Ballplayer,

We did not even make it to date status.  Why?  Perhaps because 1. you are a liar and 2. you really underestimate the power of google.

Ben, an eharmony match, told me several things about himself as part of the get-to-know-you process.  Unfortunately for him, I'm well-traveled and well-versed in google stalking since I legit get to stalk as part of my job.  We call it "discovery."

One of the things Ben talked about was being from South Dakota.  Bet you didn't realize you were talking to one of two girls in NC (the other being my sister) who has actually traveled to South Dakota.  I named 3 of the big tourist attractions out there.  He hadn't heard of 1 of them... Um. It's South Dakota.  There isn't a whole lot to do out there. Period. If there is something to do, I'm pretty sure the entire state has at least heard of it. So either he is dumb, or he is not really from there.

But where Ben really went wrong is he started talking about playing baseball for college (and I'm pretty sure he said State) and then being drafted in the 11th round.  Unfortunately for Ben, he didn't know that my sorority pretty much hung out with the baseball team in college.  And so I polled my friends.  None of us could remember a Ben.  But he was older, so maybe he graduated earlier.

But then I was like well duh, I'll just check his draft status.  Having hung out with the baseball team, and having a cousin who was drafted in the 3rd round, I knew enough about it to know that Google would have this crap for me in about .2 seconds.  So I checked the 11th round, the 10th round, the 12th round.  Not a single Ben.  Not even close.  Not for the team he said drafted him, nor for any of the other players drafted in those rounds.

Moral of the story: if you are going to lie about something, make sure its something I can't easily fact check on Google.  Remember, I paid a significant sum of money in law school to learn how to fact check.

-W

Dear Fratstar,

We went on a fabulous date 2 to Frankies.  I of course beat you in almost everything, especially skeeball and that shooting arcade game.  What can I say? I've got a competitive nature.

Since you had just received a job offer in Greensboro, and were taking it, I pretty much wrote this date off.  I figured that since you were a gentleman you would take me out as scheduled, but that would be it.  So when you didn't make a move at the end of the night for a kiss, I figured that was that.

Imagine my surprise the next morning when I got a text from you asking if I wanted to go to the Caribbean the next week.  Jokingly, I replied "of course".  You were serious.  So I asked for more details, stalling for time.  I mean date 2, no first kiss yet, and now you are asking me to spend a week with you in a foreign country.

You gave me the details, and the hotel looked incredible.  But alas, while I can see that trip as amazingly fun, I could also see it as incredibly awkward.  And/or dangerous.  Hello Natalee Holloway.  So I told you I couldn't come because I have a wedding in Virginia I'd have to be home in time to attend.

You called my bluff and changed the reservations.  So then I said that plane tickets were just too expensive.  Thankfully you didn't offer to pay for that too or things would have gotten really awkward.

In the end, you didn't go.  You went to Wrightsville Beach instead.  And invited me and some friends.  I'm much more inclined to see you 1. in America 2. with my friends and 3. where I can drive home if things get awkward.  Unfortunately my social calendar is rock solid for a while, so no weekend jaunts to the beach for me til Memorial Day.

Til then Fratstar,
W

Dear Me,

On Sunday night, I went on a second date with the Mexican.  He, not being from around here, wanted restaurant suggestions.  I suggested Mexican, without thinking. Not very PC, I know.  Further, I suggested my favorite Mexican restaurant, Los Tres, in Brier Creek.  It's probably walking distance from my house.  Mexican is a people pleaser, so he said sure and off we went.

In we walk. Yes, me the regular.  And the Mexican.  Not CPA.  Not Plan B (whose friend talked to me there, and I first noticed there).  Not Sam's Club.  At that point, it dawned on me. I need to start mixing the locations of my dates up. Quickly.  Because I think the waitstaff at Los Tres is starting to judge me because I am with a different guy every single time I go in there.  Or they think I'm an escort.  Either way, not good.

Because not only do I overindulge in Los Tres, but next door to Los Tres, is Tasu, an Asian joint I've also managed to run into the ground.  Both restaurants are fabulous, have great food, and are super close to my house.  But, a word to the wise, that everyone who is casually dating should mix up your restaurants.  Otherwise, awkward moments can occur.

For instance, a while back I went to Waffle House.  It was a favorite pre-work hangout for Sam's Club and I.  (Initially, I refused to go there because it was too low brow, but eventually I went and fell in love with the hash browns-to die for).  So, they knew us there.  Well, I walked in, and they immediately set out two place settings and started to get Sam's Club's coffee and strange-ass breakfast ready(literally, they call it Alpo and that is exactly what it looks like. foul).  I had to stop them and explain the whole ordeal, much to their shock and dismay.  If Sam's Club does show his face in there anytime soon, they'll probably spit in his food. And rightly so. But I digress.

My point is, waitstaff at restaurants know their customers.  Especially if their customers order the same things over and over. Like me.  So, I can't keep prancing into restaurants with a new guy every other day, and not expect a comment to eventually be made.  On Sunday, when the Mexican started to converse in Spanish with the waiter, I had a moment of terror.  I do not speak Spanish, despite having studied abroad in Spain.  (That's what E and I had Frick and Frack do for us.)  So I couldn't understand any of what they were saying.  And being my paranoid self, I thought, Oh Lord, what if the waiter is telling him about CPA, and Plan B, and Sam's Club! 

The waiter was probably talking about "dumb Americans thinking Cinco de Mayo is a legit holiday" and the date continued along just fine.  And it was date 6 of 28 so I'm doing ok challenge wise I guess.  But the Mexican is off to Austin for the summer to work at Dell, so I suppose by the time he gets back I will have finished dating the rest of Raleigh-Durham.  Oh well, here's to new boytoys and new restaurants for them to take me to!

-W

Dear PDA,

We met on the party bus on the way to the beach music festival.  I believe that you were still drunk from the night before.  You were way overdressed for TMBF, wearing a button down and jeans.  But yet, your button down was probably the most wrinkled thing I'd ever seen in my life.  Needless to say, I was unimpressed.

Everyone else started playing drinking games, but since I was drinking mixed drinks and not beer, I decided to pace myself and sit and people watch.  I guess that you took that as an invitation to park yourself next to me for the next 6 hours. Literally. Right next to me. Even when I switched seats, you switched to be right next to me. Numerous times.  Seriously,  I was texting other people on the roster right in front of you, and yet you persisted.

We don't have much in common, other than I am a lawyer and you are getting sued.  I couldn't figure out if you were homeless or sleeping on the couch of a friend or if you had your own place.  I tried to be polite and find something in common to talk about, but there wasn't really anything there.  Plus your BFF is a smoker. Which leads me to believe that you are probably a closet smoker to. Definite. turn. off.

So, to up your game, you decided to start touching me.  You legit asked to hold my hand at least 5 times.  I was pretty drunk, and yet this was still so awkward.  Sitting there, at TBMF, holding a strangers hand.  But your most annoying habit was by far trying to take my sunglasses off me to "look me in the eyes."  I don't give a crap if you need eye contact.  We are outside, in the sun. I want my sunglasses on.  And since it's my face and my sunglasses, I make the decisions.  I seriously thought I was going to have a meltdown if you didn't stop touching them.

And then you went ahead and straight up asked for a kiss. I said no. You kissed my cheek anyway.  And by kissed, I mean you full out molested my cheek.  It felt like you were licking my check. Nasty.

But, even my repulsion at that did not deter you.  You asked me to kiss you again, on the bus on the way home, in front of everyone. Again, I declined.  You asked if you could kiss me again. I said no, but you did it again anyway.  Ick.  And then, for good measure, you held my hand. Again.

After the concert, at the pool party, you got up to move seats to be near me again.  So I removed myself from the group and hung out at the other end of the pool. But you followed me! By this time, I was sober and in no mood for anymore of your shenanigans.  I was tired of you asking me out in theory: (will you go out with me? without a when/where/etc.... man up already).  Luckily, C (plan B's friend) came to my rescue numerous times at the pool to get me away from you.

And, I think you are traveling so, I hope you will forget me in the mean time.  Because I was embarrassed for you on Saturday.

-W

Dear Plan B (again),

Yesterday, after beach music fest, the party headed out to my friend's pool. So P, myself, and a newfound friend come back to my apt to change into swimsuits and head back out.  While we are changing we let our new friend, C, take a look at the blog.  He is amused, but then off to the pool we go.

 I'm hanging out, talking to some of my new friends, when I saw you talking to C, the guy who 20 minutes ago was reading the blog, unaware that you had already made multiple entries. I did a double take.  What are the ever loving odds that this would happen.  So I call C over and tell him "Omg!  That's plan B! I went out with him! He's on the blog!"

At this point C is like are you sure?  I said yes, I went out on a date with that guy a month ago.  Yep, turns out C was intrigued because Plan B's long-term GIRLFRIEND is one of his friends.  Busted, Plan B.

So I tell C that Plan B has made the blog numerous times already.  I showed him Plan B's number in my phone, and then P and I had to head out to get ready for the next festivity.  And as we walk by Plan B is like Hey Wendy!  Oh, Plan B.  Please stop before you embarrass yourself further.

-W

And for the record, Plan B was not nearly as attractive sans shirt as I thought he would be.