You ruined the date before we got started. How? We drove up to the restaurant. You whipped out your grandmother's handicapped parking tag and placed it on the rear view mirror and pulled right into the handicapped space.
You are able-bodied. You didn't act like it was weird. You acted like it was totally normal to use someone else's handicapped sign. On a first date.
Next time you have a girl accept a date with you, spring for valet and give the handicapped sign back to your grandmother.
Honestly, I don't even know what to do with you.
-X
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Dear Lenny the Lame
You requested email conversation immediately on eharmony. I said why not. Your emails couldn't be less boring.
"How was your weekend. I hung out with friends."
Seriously, dude, take a creative writing class or something.
But maybe you were shy, so I tried to pull some conversation out of you.
Your profile said you were an "office manager," so I asked you what field. You said actually you were studying ophthalmology. Great I asked. Where at? You said "Wake Tech."
Wake Tech is a community college. Not a medical school. Not sure what you were studying there, but it certainly wasn't ophthalmology. And I was not amused with your deceitfulness that
1. you had a job
and 2. you had any ambition.
A, my friend, put it best when she said, you wouldn't have even gone out with someone like him in high school. So why would you go out with him now.
Good point, A. I didn't.
-W
"How was your weekend. I hung out with friends."
Seriously, dude, take a creative writing class or something.
But maybe you were shy, so I tried to pull some conversation out of you.
Your profile said you were an "office manager," so I asked you what field. You said actually you were studying ophthalmology. Great I asked. Where at? You said "Wake Tech."
Wake Tech is a community college. Not a medical school. Not sure what you were studying there, but it certainly wasn't ophthalmology. And I was not amused with your deceitfulness that
1. you had a job
and 2. you had any ambition.
A, my friend, put it best when she said, you wouldn't have even gone out with someone like him in high school. So why would you go out with him now.
Good point, A. I didn't.
-W
Dear Sunday School Setup,
Your mother, bless her heart, was my Sunday School teacher while I was in law school. You were 30. I was 22. She still thought we'd be a good match.
You lived at home with her, while I lived alone. She still thought we'd be a good match.
You dropped out of college and worked in a local bar. Read: townie. I was in a top tier law school. She still thought we'd be a good match.
I wear pearls and sundresses. You wear all black. She still thought we'd be a good match.
I had just stopped seeing Mudcat. You were probably his weight, but a full foot shorter than he was. She still thought we'd be a good match.
I politely declined her repeated requests for us to meet. Low and behold, the last day of finals my 1L year came around. We pregamed at a friend's house and then headed to the two bars Williamsburg had. There was a crazy wait outside of the one we wanted to go to. So two friends and I went to the other bar to have some drinks while we waited for the line to die down.
We proceeded to have several shots. I proceeded to tell them about how my Sunday School teacher was trying to set me up with a complete loser and how it would never happen. Etc. Not my finest moment, I know.
Flash forward to church on Sunday. You showed up at church with your mom. She introduced us. I realized that you were the bartender the night I was telling my friends about you. I'm sure you heard every word.
Sorry. Or Sorry for Partying. Either way, we wouldn't be a good match.
-W
You lived at home with her, while I lived alone. She still thought we'd be a good match.
You dropped out of college and worked in a local bar. Read: townie. I was in a top tier law school. She still thought we'd be a good match.
I wear pearls and sundresses. You wear all black. She still thought we'd be a good match.
I had just stopped seeing Mudcat. You were probably his weight, but a full foot shorter than he was. She still thought we'd be a good match.
I politely declined her repeated requests for us to meet. Low and behold, the last day of finals my 1L year came around. We pregamed at a friend's house and then headed to the two bars Williamsburg had. There was a crazy wait outside of the one we wanted to go to. So two friends and I went to the other bar to have some drinks while we waited for the line to die down.
We proceeded to have several shots. I proceeded to tell them about how my Sunday School teacher was trying to set me up with a complete loser and how it would never happen. Etc. Not my finest moment, I know.
Flash forward to church on Sunday. You showed up at church with your mom. She introduced us. I realized that you were the bartender the night I was telling my friends about you. I'm sure you heard every word.
Sorry. Or Sorry for Partying. Either way, we wouldn't be a good match.
-W
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Dear H and My First Blogging Interview,
Greetings loyal readers. I hope y'all had a wonderful workday and are enjoying the last few days of summer.
Two things today:
1. H, one of our favorite guest writers, had a story about one of her dates in the September issue of Glamour! Kudos for her discussing this new phenomenon of unreasonable expectations from guys on dates. She's famous! I want to know what you think about this. Have any of your dates ever tried this move on you (probably not this direct, but maybe)? Did you fall for it? If he asked, but was the hottest guy on the planet, would it be a dealbreaker?
2. I was interviewed by R, one of my best college buddies, for her hilarious blog upperbottom.com. So check that out here. And, she has agreed to write us a guest blog on how her now husband managed to recover from what apparently was a less-than-stellar first date. Can't wait to hear about that!
Enjoy!
-W
Two things today:
1. H, one of our favorite guest writers, had a story about one of her dates in the September issue of Glamour! Kudos for her discussing this new phenomenon of unreasonable expectations from guys on dates. She's famous! I want to know what you think about this. Have any of your dates ever tried this move on you (probably not this direct, but maybe)? Did you fall for it? If he asked, but was the hottest guy on the planet, would it be a dealbreaker?
2. I was interviewed by R, one of my best college buddies, for her hilarious blog upperbottom.com. So check that out here. And, she has agreed to write us a guest blog on how her now husband managed to recover from what apparently was a less-than-stellar first date. Can't wait to hear about that!
Enjoy!
-W
Monday, August 1, 2011
Dear Sex Sting,
You asked me out in a bar. Normal. That happens. I wasn't interested, but out of curiosity I googled you later on.
Here is what I found:
http://www.todaysthv.com/news/story.aspx?storyid=34689
Yep, that's you. Mr. Sex Sting Arrestee.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why you always google your dates before you go out them.
-A
Here is what I found:
http://www.todaysthv.com/news/story.aspx?storyid=34689
Yep, that's you. Mr. Sex Sting Arrestee.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why you always google your dates before you go out them.
-A
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Dear Needstobelockedup,
We had been dating a short while. We were hanging out one day, and were just chit chatting. I asked you to tell me something that I didn't know about you.
This is a pretty normal question. It usually comes with pretty normal responses: I hate peas, my favorite color is red, I have a chicken pox scar.
Nope, not you. Your verbatim response:
I want to know what it feels like to kill a person.
What.the.EFF!?!?!
Who thinks that? Who says that? Seriously, psychopaths. That's who.
And you weren't just joking either. Turns out your hobby was torturing birds. And you laughed while you did so. You apparently only felt bad once, when the poor animal suffered longer than you expected before you bashed its brains in with a hammer.
You do not need a girlfriend. You need an involuntary commitment at your local mental health facility.
-L
This is a pretty normal question. It usually comes with pretty normal responses: I hate peas, my favorite color is red, I have a chicken pox scar.
Nope, not you. Your verbatim response:
I want to know what it feels like to kill a person.
What.the.EFF!?!?!
Who thinks that? Who says that? Seriously, psychopaths. That's who.
And you weren't just joking either. Turns out your hobby was torturing birds. And you laughed while you did so. You apparently only felt bad once, when the poor animal suffered longer than you expected before you bashed its brains in with a hammer.
You do not need a girlfriend. You need an involuntary commitment at your local mental health facility.
-L
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Dear Butterfly Girl,
You were a blind date. A very pretty blind date. I decided to take you to the natural science museum for our first date, before we went to dinner.
That was my first mistake: planning on spending hours with a girl I had never met before.
But I thought I was being nice and planning a nice, casual but fun date for us.
The natural science museum has a butterfly exhibit. Most girls love butterflies. They are pretty and graceful and fun. So I figured I'd win brownie points here.
But alas, you are not most girls.
I would happen to go on a blind date with the one girl in America who is TERRIFIED of butterflies. Like calls them "creepy crawlies" and runs from them like little kids run from bees.
When we walked into the exhibit, you went catatonic. I knew that the date had gone south, and suffered through the rest of it like a gentleman.
And you reported back to the person who sat us up that "He took me to a butterfly museum" with such an air of disgust. Apparently you think it is normal to hate butterflies.
Hate on. Alone.
-M.
That was my first mistake: planning on spending hours with a girl I had never met before.
But I thought I was being nice and planning a nice, casual but fun date for us.
The natural science museum has a butterfly exhibit. Most girls love butterflies. They are pretty and graceful and fun. So I figured I'd win brownie points here.
But alas, you are not most girls.
I would happen to go on a blind date with the one girl in America who is TERRIFIED of butterflies. Like calls them "creepy crawlies" and runs from them like little kids run from bees.
When we walked into the exhibit, you went catatonic. I knew that the date had gone south, and suffered through the rest of it like a gentleman.
And you reported back to the person who sat us up that "He took me to a butterfly museum" with such an air of disgust. Apparently you think it is normal to hate butterflies.
Hate on. Alone.
-M.
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