Thursday, July 14, 2011

Mouthbreathers In The Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear

Miss me? Nope. Yeah, well bite me. Go ahead, close the match. Everyone else does. lol.

Hobo In July (like Christmas, just smellier)

The Narcissist (who, let me remind you, was originally referred to as the "nice guy from eharmony" in past blogs--yeah, update that shit in your head b/c "nice" isn't really one of the adjectives I'm going to use for him. lol):

1. has not only been boring and more distant as of late, but also has mentioned how he plans to lose 3lbs a week from now on (haahaa, good luck with that sunshine, and PS maybe shave while you're at it, that should cut like 2 pounds of hobo from your ass---ooooh and if you keep wearing the long sleeve flannel in July you can probably sweat out at least a few ounces of douchebag),

2. stays up all hours to play Magic, the gathering (if we didn't know he was a keeper already...--and complains that people cheat in the game. Wait. People cheat at a magical card game? Could we reach a lower level of loserific? nope, ground floor, all mouthbreathers please exit the car),

3. is obsessed with that Final Fantasy game (yeah, haahaa, I bet that is the only fantasy you ever make come true darling--and not one where you'll ever end up naked), so much so that he uses it as his music inspiration, artwork, and as a reference point for his life.

Man, can I pick 'em or what?

Not that there is anything wrong with a hobby, or even those games, as dorky as some people think they are. Hey, we all have hobbies, you enjoy it, great. Who am I to give a shit? I don't. And besides, I have quirks too. I mean, it isn't every chick that gets lost watching archaeology shows or documentaries on gangs. (it was so freaking interesting, I'm serious, netflix that shit).

But seriously, it shouldn't be, nor take over, your ENTIRE life. Ever. No wonder he says he never gets laid. You don't say? Yeah, not a revelation there peaches. Although, I'm sure his comatose driving and general self-centeredness doesn't reallllllly help.

Sure, some women like assholes, but really, who likes a small inwardly turned prick? No. One.

Self Squealer

I mean, hell, I can barely handle him shooting off AT the MOUTH...Imagine him shooting off IN MY mouth? OHGOD. I'd imagine he ejaculates self congratulatory semen as well. Can you imagine? Oh, man, I've scarred myself. Talk about gag reflex. Ew. Probably screams (*squeals) his own name as he cums too. Sounds about right. And we can allll guess what the soundtrack to his "lovemaking" is. lol. At least there is no scan/seek button in bed.

He says he gets more action when single than when in a relationship.

I can totally see that. At first blush (assuming one is shitfaced drunk and he just told some impressionable chick that Tom Petty's gf thinks he rocks) I can see how he *might* get laid. Or at least blown. a little. like, no swallowing and certainly no facial action, but like, you know, maybe the tip, near or proximate to, someone's (maybe female) mouth. maybe. (no wonder he paid for it) But after a few dates (read: coma onset), I could see how one would never want to touch/blow/kiss/listen to/bang him again. It would be like when you grate cheese and catch your finger on the metal slicer, you just, you know, suck the wound, put on antiseptic, and buy grated cheese from now on. Cue antiseptic.

Distance (does not) Make the Heart Grow Fonder

So, he is also probably more distant b/c I somewhat balked at his "I respect you greatly email." If he respected me greatly, he would have the balls (or grow a pair of said balls) to tell me that he isn't interested. I can respect honesty, and not everyone is a match. I mean, if you have eyeballs you can tell from my blog I'm not over the moon about him either. If I wanted to date a narcissist, I can think of a few hotter and more well-groomed ones to start suffering through than this Lord of the Dance motherfucker. (I'm sorry, I should have named him that, because now that I used it once last post, I just can't stop calling him that. and I kinda heart it). big time.

Lord of the Dance motherfucker. aaahaahaaaaaaa.

Anyway, point being that I stopped being super nice and ignoring his shit. You're gonna say some shit, I'm gonna respond. I'm always myself, I am, but sometimes, especially at first, I know I can come off a bit much (have you read this blog? hahaa), and I try to wait until someone knows me to show my funny/unfiltered/oh-so-wrong side.

That time period has ended.

Revelations: You're Great But(t)....

So, yeah. I realized something valuable today. It was super depressing, but I guess true. Now, there are rare exceptions (my ex was actually super hot by most women's standards, tall, built, blond, blue eyed, chiseled looks...and yes, I got rid of him. He was an asshole/a drunk/stupid. When he asked me if Guatemala was in Africa, I knew it wasn't going to end well.You can fix many things, but you can't fix those things. And I'm not gonna try. No gracias, ya compre. I put his needs before mine, for like 6 years more than I should have, and I tried. I did.) but, overall, this is apparently truth...

What I realized is that this is me: (I'm going to put humble aside here, bear with me)

Intelligent/smart, funny (ok, maybe somewhat sarcastic and wrong, and needs a filter, but hey, it makes me laugh...and that's what matters right?), compassionate (shut up, I am, ask anyone), kind (see, compassionate), generous (I'm a giver, clearly), witty (contrary to my blog's content), successful (yeah bitches, I go after what I want), I'm honest (yeah, yeah, I know, filter, got it), ambitious (giving up is not an option--and adversity just makes me stronger), adventurous (i'm up for it!), and spontaneous (let's go!). I mean, I am.

I know this blog is flippant and sarcastic, but it is only one aspect of me . . . Magnified by the douchebags who ask me out.

The rest of me, well, I volunteer, I love helping people, and animals. I can't pass a homeless person without giving him something. I can't walk past a starving stray on the street dodging cars without doing something about it. I put myself out there, heart and all. I love hard. I care, I genuinely give a shit, and there is little I wouldn't do for someone I care about. I'm family and career oriented, and I always go out of my way for my partner--to please them, in every way, to support them, to share and communicate. I get what matters, I don't do drama, and (obviously) I don't put up with bullshit. Liars, assholes, douchebags, keep going. I try to do what is right, even when it is hard.

And to top it off, I'm pretty. Like really pretty. I'm fun. I love to laugh, I'm well rounded. I have my shit together (except, of course, in the relationship department), and I'm a catch. My flaws are that I was married (we all make mistakes yo) and hence, now divorced, that I sometimes wear my heart on my sleeve, and that I'm a bit heavier than I should be. Now, we aren't talking the USSBIGASS here, or like a boat, and I do compensate with (super awesome) huge boobs (cleavage for miles = understatement), but still, I should be and am trying to be thinner.

For health, for me, for tube tops.

and I'm great in bed. seriously. I'm open, experimental, wild, vocal, naughty, talented, non-judgmental---the whole 9 yards. and I love giving. I mean it. love. giving. love love love. lol. TMI? Probably, but you asked. What? You totally did. Stop lying.


And yet.

None. Of. That. Matters.

Not even a little bit.

Turns out, the only thing that matters when you're online dating is that you aren't (not even a little bit) fat. Yep. Hope you're a reallllllllllllll skinny bitch, because that is all that any guy cares about. Sure, attraction has to be there, but:

1. I'm not scary. seriously, Im not. Im even pretty.
2. I give these fell on my face on the way over to your place ALLCAPSLOCKTYPING idiots a shot, because chemistry can come from other things and it is the person who matters most.
3. Did I mention I'm pretty? and not scary?
4. I've dated. I've had men in love with me. I've had flings, sex, ffs, bfs, and even a husband--allll while looking like this. In fact, some when I looked less cute. So, clearly, someone does, and can, find me attractive. (see #1 & #3 for reaffirmation).

Soooo You Want a Bitch, But Not a Bitch? Got it.

but it doesn't matter. Which is crazy to me. I'm allllll these awesome things, and none of it matters? How can that be? How can the shitcrazy, dumb as a rock, materialistic, undriven, unsuccessful, but skinny bitch be the one they want? Guys constantly complain that women are crazy, full of drama, materialistic, gold diggers, bitches--helloooooo, then why are those the ones they date?

Rejection Recap

Meanwhile, the bald older fat guy (that I was kinda actually into a little) closed the match when I sent him my "can't stands & must haves" on eharmony-- which is weird, b/c "being a bald older fat guy" wasn't even in my can't stands list. It was flat out rejection central. Felt good.

Then the guy with like 8 chins --(you know, it is funny, I'm heavier than I should be sure, and I put up pics that show what I look like, I always err on the side of describing myself as heavier than I am when picking descriptive nouns, etc. because I'd rather have someone be happy that I look better than expected than worse, and yet, men seem to have no issue describing themselves as having "a few extra pounds" when they weight 400lbs and are about to have weight loss surgery, or as "about average" for body type when I'm pretty sure I could lose my cell phone in a chin roll. Incredible. It really is. I mean, I don't care, I have no issue dating a heavier guy or a skinny guy--it is the person that counts to me--but guys seem to have no body issues at all. I mean, I would think that a guy who legit weighs 400lbs, or even 300lbs, would be somewhat anxious about how he looks and worried the girl might not be into him. Nope. not even a wee bit. Meanwhile, I'm underselling myself and worried that I might not be portraying myself accurately by posting some pics of me that came out especially good (along side some not so good ones). Dripping with irony.

Last Call For Giving A Dammmmmm

So. new plan. I'm gonna be like a guy. I am who I am. I think I'm pretty awesome. Don't like me? Your loss dicknose. That's right. I said dicknose. booyah. snort that.)-- anyway, guy with like 8 chins didn't reply to my "can't stands & must haves"--hmm seeing a trend. I'm closing his match tomorrow. Well, at least I won't waste 5 hours searching for my cell after our date.

I was also summarily rejected by a guy who works in "transportation services" (read: bus driver), a guy who looks like the before picture in the plastic surgery/derm office magazine--you know the one you look at while you wait and that makes your chin drop and think to yourself, shit, I should get some botox or something because those before and afters are AMAZING!--yeah that guy), and a the rest I didn't even bother to look.

Oh, and man you should see the 2 who emailed me on POF. One's a martial art obsessed guy who looks like he might try to lure me into his fight club and beat the shit out of me. Now, I can appreciate a hobby, but if you have 20 pictures and ALL of them involve a head band tied ala Karate Kid, I'm gonna say too far. too far. Or the other who clearly is rocking his ESL classes, and who is sporting a sexy photo of himself in a hot tub with like 7 "gold" chains. Hmmm, yeah, you're looking for a relationship, no doubt. He said I was "rumbling around in his head all day"--and I'm going to say there must be a hell of a lot of empty space up there for that to happen.)

My new plan is to contact every match, that way they make a decision (usuaaaally to close me lol) but at least it thins out my list. I'd rather have some movement, even if it is out the door. So, slash and burn= new dating motto. Don't like me, fuck you. :) Don't let the closed match hit your ass on the way out buddy.

Leave Me Breathless Baby

Sigh. And this, my friends, is why I have a date lined up with a guy on (permanent) crutches, a guy who can't use full sentences (he loves a good fragment?--he must, b/c he hasn't mustered a single sentence utilizing a verb AND a noun yet, I know, I know, I'm a demanding bitch), and a guy who while sweet is super young, sheltered, and generally clueless.

I'm introducing him to a carrot this weekend.

I'm so fucking serious.

Someone, kill me.


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