It will end in tears. (doesn't it always?)

Good thing he has lots of toilet paper laying around (for the assplosions) and can use that to dry his little eyes. 

Awww pobrecito.

That's right kids, I'll be wearing this bitchface all day, so get used to it.  

I know it has been a while, but I am back! 

I was busy, and I felt bad that some other guy might find this blog and be hurt (again). 

And. . .  I'm over it.  Yeah, if you date me, you might find yourself on here, call the wahhhambulance.  If you date me, you'll realize right away that I'm a bit outspoken, a bit blunt, a bit sarcastic, and a handful--so finding yourself on here, shouldn't be that much of a shocker.  And if it is, well put on your big boy panties and suck it up.  Wanna cry?  Go write your own damm blog.   Fucking babies.  Geez. 

SO, time for the REWIND. 

1.  Explode-a-buttinski---he put a comment (and adorably named himself "Explode-a-buttinski"!!!  Best thing he has done so far.)  I'll post it below:  (my comments are like this as always!)

"Sorry to disappoint, that response was not from me. (of course not, I mean, it only had content that only the person actually ON the date with me would know, but sure, it wasn't you.  Right.  We all believe you.  Uh huh.  Totally)  It was quite the misadventure, and it was amusing to read about myself on the interwebnetz.  (that's funny, b/c you sure seemed quite pissed when you found it, and what are you 5? "interwebnetz? lol)  I thought the blog was funny enough to show some friends about my comic mishaps.  (well, it was hilarious, I'll give you that)  I guess one of them felt compelled to reply.  (You guess. "one" of "them."  Yeah, ok, let's go with that bullshit)   I guess some of them actually read or follow your blog now, because I heard about the anonymous reply today.  (Sure, blame the anonymous friends, have some balls and OWN IT)  Whoops.  (ew)   I guess it does add to the entertainment value of it all.   (Um, what?  Were you distracted by another ass-quake and forgot what you were talking about?? Must be it)   I hope all is well, (thanks, it is!)  I have no hard feelings about the blog, (Yeah, riiiiiiight) or anything else for that matter.  (I can picture it now, he is skipping down the street with handfuls of AIM toothpaste, rolls of toilet paper streaming out of his ass behind him like streamers.  You GO with your happy self you!!!)   I actually met my fiance for the first time a few days after that comical first date, (FUNNIEST.  SHIT.  EVER.  I can actually hear the dollar signs cha-chinging in his divorce attorney's office.  I mean, it wouldn't be his first divorce, so luckily he already knows someone!    Maybe the second time gets a discount?   Divorce one chick, get the second one half off?)  So, it's all good.  -)  (forget the eyes on that smiley face there sunshine?)
By Explode-aButtinski! on Bitter Little [exploding] Ass on 12/19/11.  


Now, don't get me wrong, I'm divorced too, but heck, I learned from that mistake!  Please note, our date was around July of 2011, and by December of 2011 he was "engaged."  haahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.  

I couldn't have ASKED for better news!  I couldn't have MADE UP better news.  Oh, juicy!!!!

Barely 6 months and you are already engaged?  Ah, yes, sounds like a solid plan.  Is she pregnant?  Maybe she fell for the old "why-don't-you-wait-here-while-my-butt-explodes-and-then-we-can-go-make-out-in-my-room" routine.  Or maybe she loves men who sit in cubicles, call out sick to go play at the beach, feel like their manhood is being questioned when a date kindly suggests something other than Indian food when his tum-tum hurts, and announces their butt-capades?  Sounds likely.

Hey, if you are his "friends" who post and follow my blog, you should totally get him a gift card for a divorce attorney for the wedding gift.  I'm all about practical gifts.  :)

Mr. & Mrs. Buttinski sitting in a tree.  S-H-I-T-T-I-N-G.   First comes exploding, then comes wiping, then comes a mini-buttinski in the baby carriage.  Awww, love.  
(picture me, making the heart shape with my hands, awwwww).  

Ew. 

Maybe they bonded over enormous sized ice creams?  (Oh, man, please, let them both have licked the ice cream cups clean together).   Or maybe, he finally got the balls to crap in a public (and co-ed--and PS what did he do in college?  Like never crap ever?  Wait, did he go to college?  Hmmm)  toilet, and she was sitting in the next stall and they had an exploding butt symphony together, ending with her passing him some TP under the door.  

OR, maybe they had a "mag-shit-ical moment" outside a port-a-potty.  I can see it now.   Just thinking about it makes me want to reach for the hand sanitizer. 

So this is love...mmmhmm mhhmm hhmmm....

It will end in tears my friends, it will end in tears.  (Oh, and if this is his "friends," you might want to suggest he stop sniffing the AIM toothpaste, and not jump into another marriage right after barely being divorced.)  lol.  AMMMAZZZZING.  If only I could be there for the divorce proceedings!  Man, what a witness I'd make. ;)  

*******************************************************************************

Gems of Wisdom from "not-explode-a-buttinksi"  (does anyone believe this at all? And who is with me that this guy needs to get over it---it was ONE date!!! lol)

Here are the points "they" made:
1.  You sound like you are a smart mouthed woman (you got me there), who is desperate (wow, someone's got their panties in a bunch!), and gives these men a chance when you shouldn't.  (Ok,  I do give people a chance, even when maybe I shouldn't.  BUT I think people deserve a chance, even a second chance, and why not?  I'd like to believe people aren't inherently (leaking) assholes (contrary to ample evidence) and give them a shot.)
2.  You seem to be angry (RAWRRRR!!!! I'M GONNA EAT YOUUUUU lol)
3.  If you are having that many bad dates, it isn't the men you are dating, it is you.  (OOOOh ZINGER!!!! Good one!!!  First off, I talked about like 5 bad dates, ask around, it is the norm.  Second, please, when I go on a bad date and he doesn't pee in the bed, doesn't have his ass explode, or doesn't offer to sign his CD for me, then I will 100% blame myself for the date being bad.  Until then, it is them.  Sorry, princess).
4.  How could you talk to a guy for a while on the phone and not realize he wasn't the one for you.  (what exactly, are you talking to these men about to "know if he is the one for you" by a few phone calls?  Spanish Inquisition?  Are you requesting social security numbers and background checks?  Geez, I just had a few phone conversations, about like life and stuff.  "The one," lol what a crock!!! Calm yourself, pumpkin).

******************************************************************************

FAST FORWARD

So, let's bring it back to the present.


Since last we chatted (or last I blogged in a "desperate" way and "gave people chances I shouldn't have")--guess what I did.  Yep, gave some more chances I shouldn't have.  Can't change me now folks!  I'm set in my kind ways!!!!  Shit, I forgot to be desperate, dammit, next time I'll work harder.  Promise. Fingers crossed. 

Sorry To Announce...

The Announcer, yeah he's gone.  No oral sex was good enough to justify me wanting to gouge my eyes out with a melon baller.  He was a nice kid, but I remember sitting in the car, feeling the familiar feeling of the walls closing in when I know it isn't right, and wishing that the ferry we were about to take would sink so I wouldn't have to get on it with him.  I just couldn't deal with the whole announcing every bodily function every time.  As previously discussed, I don't want to know when you have to take a shit, or when you have to pee, or how much you peed at 2am last night.  I.  Don't.  Give.  A.  Fuck.  (not even a little fuck).   I don't need a text about your bladder.  Nor do I want you to pee ON me.  This right here, this is a no pee no crap zone, no doing, no talking about it.  Thanks. 

He also was the kind of guy who was sweet, but clueless, and I remember laying in my bed next to him after a little argument, and he was entirely confused and had no idea what to do to make things right, and I was just bored.  Bored in the moment, bored in the argument, bored that he was clueless, bored next to him.  And I realized in that moment that I was a woman dating a (mental) boy, who had no idea how to handle/wrangle a tornado like me.  We are still friendly, and I am happy to report he has started dating someone--someone who obviously doesn't hear herself screaming RUN RUN RUN AWAY in her head when with him.  And someone who has the patience to beg him to try a carrot.  And sure, she kinda looks like a man.  A man with a wig.  But hey, love is where you find it.  Good for them! 

Shit, if you don't know what an apple is or tastes like at 30, well, I am not the person to fix you.  Good for them!  I hope it works out, and I'll give a lovely wedding gift if it makes it that far.   Yay announcer and announcerette!  (I wonder if she shouts it out when she pees too?  Hey honey, time for a crap!  Yay!  Synchronized crapping!!  Now that's a match made in heaven!)

The 36 Year Old Virgin

Did I tell you about this one?  Well, not too much to tell.  He is no longer a virgin (come on, you would have done it too, it was like community service at that point.  And shit, I need some good karma).    Don't judge me, like you wouldn't have fucked the new outta him?  Sure you would have.  Have a fucking heart people.  (Amazing that I manged to get righteous about fucking a 36yr old virgin right?  I know lol) 

We still hang out, he is fun, but alas, not going anywhere (except for his bedroom) ever.    Anti-climatic, right?  I know, tell me about it.  (ouch!)  I think what pisses me off the most, is that he never cuts his nails.  Now, ladies, you know what I'm talking about.  Don't start fingering the lady parts with jagged uncut nails.  Um, guys, do you want me to get braces and blow you?  No?  Same concept.  I even bought him a nail clipper.  Is clipping your nails once a week pre-sex too much to ask?????  Apparently so.  

The Narcissist

Yes, you remember him?  The ballless wonder who gave me a copy of his CD at the end of the date after putting me into a coma (kinda like how he drives).  Well, about a year later, I opened up a (different) dating website, checked my mail, and to my surprise, guess who emailed me.  Yep, the Narcissist!  But, he didn't realize it was me!  I have my picture up, and yet, there it was, in my inbox, all friendly and new.  I wrote back, of course, and tried my hardest to play nice, but really, how do you go about saying "hey dumbass, are you shitting me?  I don't look fucking familiar to you?  You forgot that awful date we went on????"  He remembered me then!!!!!  Ahh, fun.  Then he kept emailing, as if we were going to go on a date now.  What, one per year?  And it was AWFUL.  There was a REASON we didn't go on a second date, soooo why would a year later I want to try again?  Absence does not, has not, and will not, make the heart grow fonder.  Ugh.  Go falsely imprison someone else in your car buddy.  Just not me.

Goal for this week:  learn to play better with others.  (just not the ass-y ones).   Duh.  

;)

Bitter Little [exploding] Ass

So, it's been a while, and before I get into the fun fun fun I've been having in the dating world (next post), I wanted to address a lovely set of comments I received and clear a few things up.

Now, both comments were left on the "It's not you, it's my ass" blog, where I described the grand assplosive time I had with explode-a-buttinski.  The comment was left by " Anonymous" and yet the tone was very familiar.  Hmmmmmmm anyone remember a guy with an exploding ass who couldn't get over me blogging about him?  Hmmm, who could anonymous be?  lol.  I'll give you one guess.

Since "anonymous" was sooo kind to give me a lesson on chivalry as you will see below, I'm going to return the favor and share a lesson on privacy.  I use made up nicknames, but darling, I don't have to.  I could use first names if I wanted to--even full names as long as I speak the truth.

So, bring it bitches.

 

I think the "anonymous" comments will cease. lol.  

On to the comments--they are juicy!  Get ready! ("anonymous' comment is regular; my responses are in bold and blue):

"I'm gonna start this comment off with a little vocabulary lesson for ya. chivalry - noun qualities such as courtesy and courage    [At this juncture, I have two things to say.  First, how about a lesson in grammar: the end of sentences require punctuation.  I guess "someone" was too busy being angry (still geez get over it!) to slip a period in there.  Not to mention the missing commas, but heck, he spelled "ya" right. lmao.  Also, let me give you the actual definition of chivalry.  

Chivalry:

1.	the combination of qualities expected of an ideal knight, esp courage, honour, justice, and a readiness to help the weak [nope, not you, clearly]
2.	courteous behavior, esp towards women [I think this is what you were attempting to refer to, however I will point out that it says ESPECIALLY TOWARDS WOMEN, maybe you missed that part of the definition.  Funny thing about definitions, you have to read all of it...not just the parts you like]
3.	the medieval system and principles of knighthood [I would pee myself imagining him on a horse]
4.	knights, noblemen, etc, collectively [not in a million years]

So, you see the problem?  At least he got that it was a noun right.  Good for him!  Yay!!!!]

 

You know why chivalry is dead or dying? [Hmm, no, but I bet you are going to tell me] Because of females like you who think it's up to a sole gender to keep it alive. [Yep, there it is.  Keep these nuggets of wisdom coming, peaches!]  Do you really need a penis to do the things that seem to be expected only of men? [Well, they are the ones WITH the penis, but hey, maybe you date women with penises? Sounds reasonable, next time I encounter a woman with a schlong I'll be sure to expect the same chivalrous qualities from her too--oh, and what do you mean "need a penis to do things"--like, what are we talking here? Penises picking up the tab?  Penises eating thai food?  Now I'm picturing a penis opening a door for me.  We have to work on your diction, get it, haahaaaaa.  Further, do you have a problem handling those things?  Stop whining, and man up you little biatch. lol] But hey, I understand that your purse can become too heavy and full of tampons for you to carry enough money to pay your own way on a first date or, GASP, offer to pay for something all by yourself. [How original, let's make a tampon joke.  Shows such brains, to attack women for a natural process they gracefully deal with.  You must be a real big man.  We are going to have to work on your reading skills sunshine.  I clearly stated that I have NO problem offering to pay, and even paying.  In fact, (sit down, your unmanly legs are probably about to give out at this point with all this reading), I have only let about 2 men pay for me ever.  I have always paid my way, in fact, I always without fail offer and am willing.  I never felt like it should be one person's role or sole responsibility to pay, but in the past years I've been lectured over and over that on a first date men "should" pay or that many men see it as a bad thing if the woman insists on paying.  I've had that happen.  I've had a few men who were very traditional say that my insistence on paying made them feel like I thought "they couldn't provide for me," or that it came off as "too women's lib." I've also heard that continuing to insist on paying--like both trying to pay--gets annoying.   So basically, I can't win.  If after I offer to pay I let the guy pay then according to you I'm out for a free ride (what, a $8 meal? lmao yeah ok, no), and if I insist on paying then I'm a feminist bitch.  WHAT THE FUCK GUYS!!!! lol.  Seriously.  My rule is that I offer to pay twice, if after twice I'm refused, I'll let it go, but then I try to pay for something else, like the parking or the popcorn/drinks at the movies after dinner etc.  Anonymous clearly ignored everything I said, and has some issues himself.]    After reading this blog entry, I can see why you're still single. [Me too, b/c I don't want to settle for losers like you? Yep, that's it!  And "still"?  I've been single barely a few months, and online dating for like 1 month, whoooo yeah, still single, lol]  You shouldn't go into a first date expecting anything more than trying to make a better connection with someone. [Did you not read the other blogs? Like at all??  lol. I agree with you sunshine.  Yeah, I've said over and over, that I'm there to get to know the person, I even said that in talking about explode-a-buttinski.  I said that I wouldn't have cared where we went to eat--if his tummy was bothering him, I wouldn't have cared if we had freaking tea and toast---I was there to get to know him and didn't give a shit (appropriately) about the meal.  I have an excellent job, and I can buy my own $8 pad thai, but thanks, lol]  So what if you split dinner? [It wasn't that he didn't pay, it was how he acted and went about it, like a child and spent his whole profile talking about how he was bringing chivalry back--and besides opening like 2 doors that I reciprocated, I didn't see any evidence of it.  Maybe he meant the knighthood definition and he has like a full body armor suit at home.  I bet he even wears it to take a crap, lol.  That must be it]  He offered in the first place, [He offered?  He did?  How would you know Mr. "anonymous"---were you on the date?  He didn't offer, he sat there drinking his thai iced tea and I opened MY mouth and offered lol] so if you had full intentions of freeloading, you shouldn't have offered at all yourself. [Please refer to the part where I offered and then offered again, and then paid.  In fact, when he first texted me he would come to Walgreens to meet me b/c he needed toothpaste, I asked him what kind he needed and was going to pick it up for him, yeah, I'm the freeloading bitch, clearly lmao]  Not to mention then proceed to be mad about it! [I wasn't mad, I just laughed about it, hence why it was in this blog where I joke and laugh about the ridiculous dates I go on]  Also you seemed so concerned with the fact that he wasn't listening when it came to you not liking ice cream. What about the fact the he clearly did like ice cream?  Would it have been so hard to say, "Hey I don't care for ice cream, but sure lets go!". Ultimately all he is doing is trying to extend the date, but I guess you would rather a guy say "Dinner was great...Bye!".  [It wasn't about not liking ice cream, it was about ice cream making me sick.  If your date told you something made them sick, like really sick, would you want to take them there?  I wouldn't, I would want my date to be comfortable--which is why I didn't say a word against it when we drove around and he picked his favorite ice cream place, and I still got out and went in enthusiastically.  I even ordered a little something so he wouldn't eat alone.  I didn't show that I didn't want to go there.  I understood that he probably just had this date planned and he wasn't good on the fly.  I get that, and I appreciated that he planned something.  So I went, I smiled, I had fun, and I didn't mention again that I didn't like ice cream.  In spite of feeling really sick from it, I even took a few bites to make him feel good and show that I was happy to be there.  SO SCREW YOU buddy lol] Do yourself a favor and quit playing games. [Gosh, this wise sage gives advice too!  Lucky me!!!!  I don't play any games.  None.  However, I am allowed to have personal thoughts, and express them anonymously on a blog.  Let me refer you to those amendments...aka the Constitution lol]  Finally, the poor guy had to poop. Get over it! At least he was honest.[He didn't have to poop.  He told me his ass was about to explode and create an incident.  AN INCIDENT!!! lmao.  He could have been honest and still modest.  I didn't care that he had to poop or go explode, but how he expressed it during a first date was hilarious!  Come on, your date says something like that, and you would laugh your ass off on the inside.  I didn't make him feel bad, I didn't give him a hard time, I was sympathetic and left immediately when he said he had to go.  No biggie.  I told him not to worry about it.  I still kissed him, which I never do, and reassured him that it wasn't a big deal.  In fact, I was still willing to go on a second date after that incident.  However, looking back it was funny as fuck.  I guess Mr. "anonymous" never thinks back at unlikely, or hard situations and finds the funny in them.  I can laugh at myself, and it was a funny night!]  Unlike you who didn't mention you weren't from New Jersey, but have no problem complaining and dwelling about it and the money spent.  [I am from NJ you idiot.  I grew up in NJ, I just happen to have a home in both NY and NJ, and at the time I was physically in NY.  I even have jersey plates, jersey license, etc b/c I'm a jersey resident.  Sorry to disappoint ya.  Some people like me, have homes that they own in more than one place.  New concept for ya?  Brace yourself, I have a third house on the beach too.  Sad new for you, it is also in NJ lmao]  Thank goodness you don't live in New Jersey, we have enough problems dealing with the "Jersey trash" stigma already. ["We" eh?  So you live in NJ, hmmm I bet I can guess which street lol.  Man, let's just say, if you aren't explode-a-buttinski--which I'm sure you are--I hope we meet sometime, it sounds like it would be a great time lmao]  In conclusion, I'd say that shit he had to take was probably the best thing that could have happened to him.  [More like the best thing that happened to me, and BONUS it led to you commenting!  whoohooo! doublescore!]  It's no wonder instead of the body heat of another man, the most warmth you get near your vagina is when you rest your computer on your lap to blog about your failures in life. [Now, that one was kinda funny.  I'll give you that one.  It isn't my failures in life though.  I went to excellent schools, I have my first choice job, I love what I do.  I was married, to a man who most women find hot, and I left him because I wasn't happy.  I am new to dating, I am sarcastic, and I like to laugh.  Sorry, lol.  However, I will mention that while I am not loving my "dates," some of them actually want to date me again, and lol, I'm a grown woman, and therefore, always have a fuckfriend on speeddial.  So, listen, don't you worry your pretty little head about my vajayjay, I'm good, great in fact!]  My money's on him [you mean you?] finding love and happiness before you do. DEUCES! [Now, saying "deuces!" is such a kiss off isn't it?  As if you know the person? LOL.  Well, explode-a-buttinski, I hope you have a great day in your cubicle tomorrow, and enjoy pooping at work and at home (but not in public), and find that happiness that eludes me.  Oh, good luck on that receding hair line too.]
By Anonymous" [haahaaa, yah, ok, nooo onneee beeeeliieeeevveeessss youuuu lol]

And now for his second comment...I guess he had more to say?

"too bad you texted him a week later saying you were still "dtf," which i think means down to fuck..

 [Hmmmm, that is SOOO weird, that you, an anonymous poster, would know that I texted him a week later.  However, you are mistaken, I never told him I was DTF (which does mean what you think it means lol), and I was never DTF him.  I was down to get a neck massage lol, but listen, I looked at his hands.  He is a medium-tall man, with a huge belly, a receding hair line, and not large hands.  You do the math.  My texts were to try to apologize, because these are my private thoughts and feelings, presented in a funny way, that were meant for anonymous reading only--and not for him to see.  I felt terrible that he saw it, and I tried to invite him over, offered to cook for him, and tried to make him feel better.  I never texted him that I was DTF, but nice try asshole]  weird.. if you're like the other girls this guys dates, you're ugly and a little bit fat. [So, you're saying this guy only dates girls that are ugly and a little fat? Wow, you pass judgment on everyone eh?  lmao]  so it probably is just you [I've discussed my weight, yep, I'm not fat, but maybe I'm a little bit fat?  Sure, let's go with that.  I'm not ugly though, in fact, I'm super pretty, so lost me there.  However, he was at least "a little fat" himself, so pot, meet kettle.  And I have also said, that I don't care about that, I would date a guy even if he was heavy or super skinny, as what is inside is what matters.  Clearly, you missed that nuance, and it makes you feel big and better to call a girl who is putting her heart out there and being brutally honest about not only her dates, but about herself, because she likes to write and believes it is better to laugh at the ridiculous things life throws at you rather than cry, "ugly and a little bit fat."  Hey, I hope it made you feel like a real big man. (no doubt a first for you).]

By Anonymous"  [Still rocking this eh?]

Dearest "Anonymous,"

Next time, be a man and post it with your name, screen name, contact info, or something.  

Anonymous= biggest pussy ever. (but hey, at least his butt explodes on command!!!)

lmao.   I guess someone read the second blog about himself lol.  Whoops lol. 

love and asskisses,

Me. 

The Asshole Has Landed

I'm an asshole.

Yep. Jury's in. The unthinkable, the thing I was most terrified would happen, happened.

That's right, there IS something worse than waking up in pee, or having your date run out when his ass explodes. Yep. There is one thing that is, by all accounts, WAY worse:

and that is your date finding your blog. The one you wrote ABOUT HIM. And he reads it.

Turns out, Explode-a-buttinksi is an excellent (and I mean hands down if I need to find some hidden in a box inside a another box in a closet in a hole shit I'm calling this guy) amazing google-er. I had googled my blog, lots of ways, and nothing comes up. He googles it, and BOOM, first entry on the list is me.


Me: You totally didn't find my blog. haahaa (nervous laughter) what? what are you talking about?
EAB: Haahaa yeah I did.
Me: No, really? No, you didn't. Ok fine, what's it called (crossing fingers, praying at warp speed)
EAB: It's called...(this pause gave me enough time to have 3 aneurysms) Tastes Like Bad Decisions
ME: heh heh, uhhh, and you think that's my blog? (shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit)


And yes. He read it. He read every single ass exploding snarky word of it. And then he texted me and said he read it. and then, as if karma has a funny side, the tables turned in the blink of an eye (or sphincter, as would be the case here), and it was me that practically crapped my pants. Not really, but you know, figuratively. Which is pretty damm close at this point. (might I say, an "ass-hair" away lol ok,ok)

In fact, he is probably reading this. Right. Now. (hi!!!!) lol. FML.

(the irony is that the night before I dreamed (I SWEAR) that the wild child/ac guy found my blog, and got super mad about it and I felt like an asshole. Cue asshole, oh here I am!!!)

He then let me know that my memory wasn't totally spot on, and corrected my blog for me. (What a giver--oh, God, I can't stop!!! this man is going to HATE me) sigh.

In his defense, he claims he refused my offer to pay the first time, and at my second insistence he accepted. We are going to have to agree to disagree to remember it differently. Either way, it was very cute to hear him defending himself. He also said he picked Thai b/c I was bringing into question his manhood, wow, who knew? lol. I thought his manhood was very much intact (let's hope in all ways lol), and didn't realize I was doing that. So, see, I suck toooooo. lol.

Then he peppered his conversation and banter with other stories from my blog. Which made my heart stop and head explode as I quickly tried to do a mental scroll of all the shit I've divulged on here and what he has now, clearly read, ingested, and judged me for.

Oh boy.

And now he probably thinks I'm nuts, a whore, or worse. None of which are true, but you know, I do tell all and leave no testicle unturned. (ahaahaaaaa) If some shit went down, I'm going to write about it in all its glory.


But then, something strange happened.


He said he was serious about his text. That he appreciated the honest feedback (it was the most honest he ever got, lol, yeah I bet, I mean how many other women blog about your ass-capades? heehee, c'mon, that was good). And that he found my blog hilarious. Sure it probably hurt his feelings a little, but he could also see it for what it was, and beyond anything I expected, and in spite of the looming possibility that I could blog about him again, he still wanted to see me again. Like on a date. With me. After this. In public. lol.

And I was blown away.

I mean, I know I've probably totally given him a complex, and he wanted to make sure he was dating me and not FoxyBlur, and that he wasn't just fodder for my blogging pasttimes.

All valid concerns, especially given that I'm clearly an asshole.

But, at the end of the day, I blogged because this crazy stuff was happening to me, not going out to find crazy stuff to blog about.

I agreed to a second date. A do-over of sorts. (because, really, sure there were some fuck ups, but it's a first date, there are nerves and stuff, and yeah he did have an incident lol, but overall I did have fun, and he doesn't seem like a bad guy. and I did like kissing him (who doesn't like dinner)). ;) And, ok, he was actually sweet. He made me laugh, he did open doors, he was respectful of me, didn't try to be sleezy or take advantage of me, and he was honest with me. I'm nothing but honest (clearly toooooo honest, I should shut up more or filter more or something lol), and I appreciate honesty from a guy more than anything. and he was you know, kinda cute. ;) And shit, he brushes his teeth and is willing to eat out of his comfort zone to impress me. Did I mention teeth brushing? YAY!

I also assured him that I went on that date to get to know him, which was true (and not to blog about it--listen that was just the result of the ass-cident--I mean, how could I NOT have blogged about it????), and that in spite of the fact that he thinks he came off with a mixed result, I am impressed by his manliness that he was honest with me, that he can take the constructive criticism (and not hate me? lets hope!), and laugh and still want to go out on another date with me.

In fact, it impressed the pants off me, which I'm pretty sure is his eventual goal anyway. lol. Like in a relationship, you know, lol. Evennnnntuallll I said. Eventual!!! Sigh, I should just stop talking lol.

So, maybe just maybe, at the end of the day (and with pepto in hand), this one actually is a gem. I'm going to stick around and find out, that is, if he'll have me.

(and if he doesn't hate me after this, blog #2 --hey at least this one isn't dedicated to his ass!!!! That's progress right?? Right!!!??)

Oh, shit, just accept it, I'm an ass. But at least I'm a cute ass! ;) <3 and he thinks I'm prettttty (blush)!

"It's Not You, It's My Ass"

You know, when I was married I knew one thing for a fact--that statement "It's not you, it's me"---totally didn't apply to my marriage. It was absolutely the opposite. I knew for certain it was ENTIRELY: "It's NOT me, it's YOU." And, it was. totally. No issues there. He was an ass, he treated me badly, and now he's mad I'm gone. No one to blame but himself.

However, ever since I've been dating, it seems like I attract the crazies. The nuts, the clingers, the pee-ers, the scammers, the losers, the creepy-strangle-you-and-stuff-you-like-a-deer-creepies. I seem to attract all of them. If it isn't one fucktard it's another douchy-mc-douche. At first I thought, maybe it is my judgment, but then I thought of waking up in pee, being asked for cash, and being chased by a stage 5 clinger, and nope, it isn't my judgment. I think I was entirely right to NOT date those "men." I re-checked my profiles and even got some second opinions, and nothing abnormal (read stalker-attracting) there. Even my pics are normal--and nope--no "CALLING ALL CRAZIES" on my forehead.

So, what's the common denominator? It's me.

It has to be. What other explanation could there be? What am I doing wrong? It's like I've been putting out the batcall in the sky on the regular for asswipes and dumbfucks. Please, someone, tell the old butler dude to stop meddling, kick him in the shin, unplug the red phone, sell the fireman's pole, and for FUCKS sake, turn the batcall off.

The funny thing is, after the pee-er, I kind of thought my dating issues with bodily bathroom functions was over. You know how I'm always saying I'm wrong about these assumptions. Fast forward to me being wrong. Tonight.


Explode-a-buttinski

So, I started talking to another guy on eharmony.

(Please note, I am still waiting on tugboy, who will be getting around to going out with me soon. I'm sure that date will be a little slice of heavenly bloggable material. He, however, is still texting, emailing, and regularly kicking my ass online in games. And I'm still pissed about it. Still no word on why he confessed his rubatugtug, and he's still in love with himself. If I hear about how one more person said he was awesome, I might have to refer him to therapy. Luckily, I know someone with a therapist on speeddial (see pee-boy) Ahem.

Ok, back to new guy. He seems nice, kind of a teddy bear sort. He is also divorced. We had oodles of fun talking on the phone, although if I had to guess I would say he either is kind of dating stupid, or just not that into me. I would ask him a question, and he would answer. Now the usual thing would be to ask the same thing in return. Not this guy.

Me: Oh, what did you major in in college?
Dater: Environmental studies.
Me: Oh that sounds interesting.

Awkward silence.

Me: So, do you like what you do now for work?
Dater: Yeah, I love it.

Silence.

You get the picture. Most people would have asked me back what my major was (instead of bashing a certain major to me for like 10 minutes--at which point I pointed out to him that that major he loved to joke about, was my major. Had he asked, he would have avoided that foot in mouth moment.) Good job.

Anthropology is a fine major. Fuck you. moving on.

Anyway, we go out. Now, I drive to NJ, pay the tolls (teetering at over $20 at this point), pay for gas (which is beyond ridiculously high, for $4.26 a gallon, someone should be giving me oral sex, or at least rotating my tires--for serious--I mean, shit, I do always pull into the "Full Service" filling area. heh. now that's the kinda full service I'm talking about). I did put on my profiles that I was in NJ, and did say I was fine with coming to NJ. So, fine, NJ here I come. EZpass, work that shit.

He meets me at walgreens, where I had stopped b/c I was early and needed a lint brush and a card. He found me de-dog hairing my cardigan. Sexy look for me, no doubt. I know how to make a good first impression, clearly. (also explains the face and hello he gave me that totally screamed, "ugh this chick is weird I'm gonna get my toothpaste and go home") So, knee deep in dog hair and sticky paper, he goes in and buys toothpaste while I wait in my car. Hey, ok, fine, I appreciate good dental health. At least he USES toothpaste. I gotta pick my battles....

We had picked Indian food, but he asked if we could try something less wild since his tummy was acting up. No problem I said. In the car I tease him that if he hates me, is that going to be his way out? To say that his tummy is acting up and he has to go home? His escape plan? Lol. We laugh, and laugh, and then, the universe sees a way to make a jackass out of me. (wait for it....)

So he picks Thai. Not the most logical choice, but ok, I'm game. Then he picks a spicy dish. Now, if your stomach is acting up, so much so that you can't handle trying a new cuisine, maayyyybeeeee you shouldn't get the super spicy chili seafood dish. Just maybe. A little. SUPER! SPICY! CHILI! SEAFOOD! Which one of those words did you miss buddy? I tried to warn him, but no.

I also offered him a taste of my meal, which he accepted twice. Didn't reciprocate. (Chivalry AND generosity AND manners? How has someone not snatched this gem up yet?). Although he did open some doors, which I of course reciprocated with the reach over in the car/car door thing. So, any points he scored, were summarily cross out by my reciprocation. Bitchydater giveth, bitchydater taketh away.

The check comes, and I believe a girl should always at least offer, and be willing to pay her half, but of course a first date it is often that the guy feels he should pay, or even wants to pay. (especially when half his eharmony profile is about how chivalry is not dead, and how he is all like that and shit. and shit is right. Oh, and when the girl just paid way more than half the dinner in tolls and gas to see him, ok whatever). So I offer. And he is like is this a test? I laugh (because, really who is this dumb?) He goes OK!! So, I pay half of dinner. fml lol. All in all, I think this date cost me about 3 times more than him. And I did all the work lol.

After dinner he suggests ice cream. Now, he had suggested it earlier, and I explained I didn't really like ice cream. Then at dinner when he suggested it again, I re-explained that I didn't really like ice cream or sweets. At all. In fact, I even explained that I usually felt sick after eating them.

So, of course, where does he drive to? To the ice cream place. Shoulda seen that one coming. I let him pay for that one. Especially since I DIDNT WANT ANY ICE CREAM. Ugh. I had like two bites of something gross. He inhaled his, and for the first time tonight, I saw love in his eyes. At first I thought something was wrong, and then I realized, he was just really really into his ice cream.

Yes, I don't like ice cream much. Get over it. I also hate yogurt. Blasphemy! I know.

At the close of ice cream, he mentions to me that he---here it comes----has to go home or there will be an incident. Involving his ass. Apparently, the spicy thai food (you know, the stuff I warned against) has irritated his already delicate-like-a-flower tummy and if we don't leave soon, there will be an explosion. A bad one. He also lets me know in no uncertain terms, that he "can poop at home and at work, but not in public." Good to know.

On the way back he says that he has heard that it is better to beg forgiveness later rather than to ask for permission, but that he was going to do the opposite anyway. (Meaning I guess that it was better to tell me his ass was about to explode and create a firestorm of spicy thai seafood shit everywhere, than to make up some other excuse to get himself home and ask for forgiveness later???) He says that he hopes he made the right decision on that one.

Newsflash. You made the wrong decision. Totally. 100000000% wrong decision there, sunshine.

I mean, he could have made something up, hell ANYTHING. His hamster died and he has to get home, he has to call his mom, he left the gas on the stove, he has to jerk off at exactly 9pm nightly, I mean, I would have taken ANY excuse. ANYTHING. I'd have worked with him, even let him get away with some dumb bullshit. Because really, ANYTHING is better than "I gotta go home and blow up my bathroom or my ass will explode RIGHT here RIGHT now" on a first date. T. M. I.

But he keeps saying, really it's not you, it really isn't, I'm having fun, my stomach is just acting up and I have to go home to the bathroom.

Sooooo, what he was saying essentially was . . . it's not me, it's his ass? awesome.

We get to his house, and he kisses me goodnight. and then...he suggested I wait. for him. to crap.

He suggested I either sit in my car and wait for him, sit inside with his like 10 roommates while he poops (like that won't be an awkward introduction, "uhh here's my date, can she sit here for like 10 minutes while I take an exploding crap? Thanks guys!," or stand outside b/c it isn't "that buggy" out tonight. Then he would come back (let's pray he has good handwashing techniques, because I sure as hell am not going in to supervise! fml), and resume making out. Which he would like to do either in my car or in his room. On a first date. Hmmmmm, yeah, not so much. I suggested that I should go, it was already, um, 9:30pm, after all. lol. So he walks me to my car.

Then he made out with me like I was dinner. Again. I hope this meal didn't also irritate his ass. I'd hate to cause a second explosion in his pants. (let's hope he is a tighty whitey guy and not a boxer guy--to hold all that crap inside the pants)

He texted me later and joked that I might blog about the night. I said noooo I won't blog about it. Never...Noooo neverrrr. What's there to blog about? Yes, and I'm a virgin and waiting for marriage. Oh wait, too late. Yeeeeaaahhh, I'm sooooo blogging about your ass. (in all its exploding glory).

So, to recap:

four sentences for my date tonight.

1. My date ended at 9:30pm tonight.

2. Even though I paid tolls and gas to NJ (and received no oral sex/tire rotation), we still split dinner.

3. Even thought I told him I hate ice cream, we went to an ice cream parlor and had ice cream.

4. The date ended early because the spicy thai food caused his ass to explode.

that is all.

Another one for the success column! He wants to know when date #2 is.

um. about that.

(how's a quarter past never, does that work for you?)