*Youtube videos used in the post sometimes can't be seen from your phone, so if you want the full effect, you'll need to go to your computer.
I'm back. My apologies for the delay, but I've been at a spiritual retreat in the Himalayan mountains, discovering God and finding inner peace.
HAHAHAHAHAHA. Fuck that. Truth is, me and my new body have been mega swamped with dating and scream crying face down into my pillow...daily.
I know. Shocking, right?
In January, I made the decision to #yolo the shit out of life and hit the dating scene, and hit it hard.
So where was I? Oh yeah, dating. So since January, I've been on approximately 473204409174237 dates which equals 23412343284092137 hours of my life that I'll never get back. Wicked. And to think I could have been crocheting doilies and reading those books on botany I've been meaning to get to. But no, I chose to purposely meet strangers and discover all the dickish behaviour this fine city has to offer.
Wait, here's a picture that actually sums up every emotion I could ever feel toward dating.
To kick off dating-palooza 2014, I met my very first date in a bar after work. That morning, I was suuuuppper nervous so I shoved a couple beers in my purse before heading to work
Anyhoodle, that date lasted 5 1/2 hours and it was frigan awesome. (Just wait). We held hands, we laughed, we kissed,
It turned into months of
I think it's a pretty accurate statement to say that since then, it's like my dreams are coming true. So, instead of walking you through every date, I've broken down
The Fucker: (*This is a category I have zero experience in, my friend told me about it). He's hot, you have sex on the first date and he says "I'll call you tomorrow." Tomorrow never comes but you know what does? Pizza. Pizza, always comes.
Oh and I should say that some pre-date wisdom from my mom totally could have helped my friend...
The Cheapskate: He spends the entire date talking about how much money he has and his $29,000 dollar watch, then when the $40 bill comes, he looks at you and says "Alright, so you owe...." Then your ulcer starts to burn and the rage becomes so intense you think you actually may Jason Bourne him right in the middle of the restaurant
Then to spice shit up, he guzzles his first drink and asks "So, can we go have sex now?" You briefly black out and wonder if this is real life.
As you re-gain consciousness, and those words settle into the WTF receptors in your brain, you get flashes of yourself walking into an animal shelter and saying "See those cats? I'll take 'em all."
The Bad Boy: He's hot, he's nice, he's got an edge, you feel that instant connection, you spend 70% of your day thinking about him, when you know he's not thinking about you and the other 30% of your day is spent thinking about how much you hate public transit, but that's besides the point. Your friends hate him without having ever met him, he texts, you die, he comes over, he disappears, he texts, you die, he comes over, he disappears, he texts, you die, he comes over, he disappears, you get drunk and send a really creepy drunk text and instantly wish your roof would collapse on you the next day when you check your phone. BOOM. Done. And that's how you end it folks.
The Little Person: The guy that lies in his profile and says that he's 5'10 and when you meet in person, you discover that he's just past the height requirement to ride roller coasters, and possibly sits on phone books to see over his steering wheel. I'M GOING TO FIND OUT HOW TALL YOU ARE WHEN WE MEET, JACKASS.
If you can identify with any of this, please contact your mental health professional. Or if you are about to embark on your very own hellish dating journey, I will leave you with a few key pieces of advice, particularly geared toward online dating:
1. Don't download Tinder, I actually got an STD just from downloading the app.
2. Never respond to a message when the guy just says "hi", they are dead inside.
3. The first dick pic from a stranger will be hilarious, the 15th will be down right offensive.
4. Always make sure you bring your wallet, not just in case you're stuck with the bill, but so they can identify your body when you dart into traffic after meeting the 72nd asshole. We all have a breaking point.
Well, the rage that has come over me while writing this, has provoked me to want to search my fridge and just melt cheese on all of its contents.