8 Bad Dates Part Uno

I am pretty sure I could make a movie called 32 [crappy] Dates.  It would star me as the girl who consistently found herself in far too many less than spectacular situations with some less than spectacular guys.

When I was all single and lonesome, people were always trying to set me up.  I was so fickle though, (and in a serious guy-hating sad funk) even the slightest thing would have me changing my phone number and getting it unlisted to avoid the unwanted phone calls and voice messages that I would get from people that I had no interest in dating or going on a second date with. (Holy run-on-sentence Batman!)   I actually changed/unlisted my telephone number several times.  I kid you not. 


Anyway.  I was thinking about all of the things that turned me off in guys and potential second dates in general when I was younger, and it sounds very shallow and mean now.  Seriously, I should be embarrassed for even writing this down and sharing it with the potential world, but what the hell, right?  I can only claim dumb young girl-ness for my rotten, shameful behavior.  

But let's get on with the meanie that I was back in the day.

One guy, who my husband, sisters and their respective spouses call the D.H.er (for reasons that I cannot disclose) was a smoker (yeah, not my thing - no offense) and he totally overstayed his welcome and rolled his cigarettes into a little neat line on the table.  Like, weirdly obsessive.  That guy did not get a second date.  I saw him from afar at a department store years later (incidentally, he was wearing a cheesy suit) and hid from him in the clothing racks. 

I also had a real live stalker once.  He even called my sister and (literally) cried at her that I refused to return his calls.  But in my defense, he turned all weird and got high and told me he shaved himself.  In the downstairs region.  If you get my drift.  That seriously grossed me out (no offense to those that are into that) and I got out of that one as fast as possible.

Once this cutie cop who used to come into my work a lot suggested we meet up out at this bar for a few drinks and I was all, "OK, cool, I'll be there!"  and I showed up and he had these hideous stark white sneakers on.  Practically glowing in the dark.  For some reason I totally couldn't get past the sneakers so I found a way to sneak out of there and never spoke to him again.

There was also that short window salesman who my brother-in-law Ty set me up with that showed up in a green pleather (as in plastic leather) jacket.  Besides being of extra short stature, he was BORING.  (I have nothing against short.  I married short.  I am just trying to paint a picture for you.) Ty knew me.  What the hell was he thinking??  Short, pleather jacket guy got the boot.

(rob can wear a green pleather jacket whenever he wants to)

My Mom once tried to set me up with a house painter who she thought was so nice, and I was slightly interested until I heard his last name was Hoare.  He tried to say it was pronounced like "whore-ay," but it didn't fly with me. I mean, why even go down that road if you could potentially show up at your 20 year reunion and introduce yourself as Jessica Hoare.  Yup. Good try Mom.

There was this adorable guy that I had been crushing on for literally years.  Definitely tall, dark and handsome.  He was super flirty every time we were in the same vicinity, and finally we kind of actually made a plan to get together.  We went down to the river, hung out and talked for a long time, it was really nice, and I was liking him.  Til he kissed me.  Which was gross, and totally not all it was cracked up to be.  He was a terrible kisser and there was no way to deny it, because you know, kissing is sort of important.

Then there was this guy I met at work who was interested in me.  Even though I didn't know him too well, I thought he was cute and seemed nice, so I went with it.  He was a little older than me.  We met for a group date at a lake, things were going OK and then he took his shirt off to go swimming and it looked like he was wearing a sweater vest.  I mean, he was so very hairy, I almost gagged.  That and the fact that he had B.O. was a huge turn off.  No offense to all of the smelly, hairy guys out there and the women who love them, but I just couldn't get past it.  Then I later heard that he was married and I was so offended.  I felt really sorry for his wife because she ended up with a stinky, hairy cheater.

I would consider this a sweater as opposed to a sweater vest, but thanks either way google)

And finally, while we are talking about older hairy guys who I met at work, I will leave you with the image of this guy I will call Mr. Beach, just for the heck of it.  On this first date we met at his apartment, and I was sitting there on the couch waiting for him while he changed before we went to where ever it was that we were going.  Well, I think he thought I would like it, but he came out with no shirt on and he was really muscular (which actually turned me off very much in itself), and flexing (kind of like he would make a big muscle while he picked up a cup of water or something. ew.) but he was also pale and freckly, and all of the no-shirt wearing and miscellaneous flexing caused me to notice one very random patch of fur on his back that was about the size of my face.  And he had two snarling pit-bulls locked up in the kitchen and he had cheesy mood music on.  It was bad.  Really, really bad.

I know this may sound harsh of me.  Sorry, but I have to tell it like it is.  Or was.  Shockingly, I have many more stories of this nature, and maybe I will share them in another post.  A Part II of 8 more bad dates that I have been on!  Woo hoo!

I'll bet you are all on the edge of your seats...