Dating: DON’T DO IT

What the hell?

In the last week, 2 of my favorite “victims” resurfaced. I use the term victim here mostly in jest because it’s hard to identify who is on what side of the break up game. I tend to think the person crying is the victim - generally not me - but who really had to put up with all the shit and then step up to end things? Me.

So, who’s it going to be? The Square Peg and The Good Samaritan – what a duo. Yes that’s right ladies and gentlemen, it appears The Square Peg is making a move to turn the 7 year relationship disaster into 8! If you remember he was real bad news and I made my peace with it all recently. I imagine he is planning his next attack as he usually does, in which he waits until I no longer hate him, says let’s be friends, and then…ugh…into the swirling vortex of idiocy I go.

Fortunately this time I have a secret weapon…STANDARDS!

So I received a simple message on facebook from TSP that said we hadn’t talked in a long time (no kidding), how have you been (really fucking fabulous), and tell your sister and her man I said congrats (tell them yourself you jackass you’ve known them as long as you’ve known me).

My actual response was swift and pristine:

Heyyy,

I’ve been super actually. I graduated, got myself a real job, I’m dating an awesome guy and I’m moving to [a totally badass area of town] in a few weeks.

[Sister and Brother-in-law]’s wedding was amazing! I’ll tell them you said hi when they get back from their honeymoon.

Ramona

Oh yeah it SOUNDS innocent enough, but it really says “You know you were never good enough anyway. Oh, and how’s your parents basement? Still drafty?”

LT would do some crazy instant death kung fu army shit to him if he stirred up real trouble anyway, but I have gotten no response. This might sound mean to you, but he neglects to brush his teeth frequently. Dude is a weirdo, ok?

Fun fun fun. In addition, back in the day one of The Good Samaritan’s shining moments came when he said that he would have time for me when he went to grad school (oh ok, thanks). He IMed me the other day to tell me that he’s moving to Ithaca and going to Cornell soon. That’s nice - don’t forget to pack your crazy pills AND YOUR RAINBOW PURSE WITH FRINGE. What a looney toon.

They both fall into the category that can only be called “So Over It”

Dear Diary,

I have never been asked on a proper date. This is a curious realization considering I theoretically write about date-ing. The root word there being date, which is Greek for “big waste of time”.

Although I haven’t been asked on a date, I’ve been on dates - I just ask other people on them. It usually turns out pretty well too. I think it’s total crap that women are like ho hum I’ll just sit here until someone asks me out. It’s not like you go out to the mall and wait for some sales person to hand you something to buy. GO FOR IT. Get in there like it’s your size bin at a shoe sale! No more of this pussyfooting around.

Speaking of pussyfooting around. You might be wondering why I don’t get asked on dates, yet a decent number of people seem to be interested in me. Well, I’ll tell you a secret…I HAVE NO IDEA. It’s not like I walk up to the first tall fine man (as if there are ever several to choose from?) I see at a bar and purr something in a seductive voice that includes the words “you”, “dinner”, and “Friday night” No, that is not how it works. I might be ballsy, but that’s a boldness that only Jack and Jose can give you (Daniels and Cuervo, of course). And at that point you’re slurring not purring, and, well, just forget it.

I don’t go scaring men off like that, but something must be going wrong. They seem to get hooked and dick around until I lose interest. Then if I find myself particularly into them I ask them out. Then they are consistently surprised and excited. This makes NO SENSE. It’s also exactly what happened with The Good Samaritan. but Dear Diary I have grown weary from thinking about all this stupidity, so I’m going to go have lunch and tell you about him another day, promise.

♥Ramona

Dating, as it turns out, takes more skill and cunning than any other endeavor I have undertaken in my relatively short life. I have evaluated my strengths and weaknesses as follows:

- STRENGTH - I have big boobs

- WEAKNESS - I attract/am attracted to completely CRAZY people.

I am not kidding, even a little bit. And I was never more serious than the day I went on my third date with The Good Samaritan and he carried a purse. HE called it a purse. It was hand woven by poor Thai villagers out of beautiful rainbow colored thread, tied neatly into delicate fringe. In it he kept his wallet, keys, and hand made friendship bracelets.

Let me repeat that.

IN HIS TECHNICOLOR DREAM PURSE, HE CARRIED FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS. He tried to give me one. A little piece of me died that night. Here I was all this time thinking how nice it would be for a boy to give me jewelry! Stupid me! At recess in 4th grade I would have been floored, but a 22 year old man-boy need not carry friendship bracelets. I ate my napkin at dinner to avoid vomiting/crying/saying something I shouldn’t. (Is there really anything I didn’t have every right to say at that point?)

I need a xanax already.

- STRENGTH - I am good at english, spitting, building things with legos, cussing, and breaking hearts.

- WEAKNESS - I am an absolute fool for a cute tall man.

I realized that this was a terrible sickness when I was dating The Square Peg, a 6 foot tall man who found great gay joy in wearing size 4 womens jeans from abercrombie & fitch. First of all he was 4″ taller than me, wearing womens pants 3 sizes smaller than mine. This is not only disturbing on a level of questioning ones sexual identity, but dude it is SO uncool to wear clothes that much smaller than mine! In addition, there was not a moment of the day when his penis was NOT COMPLETELY VISIBLE. I got tired of looking at it, really. I’d rather see it in the flesh once a day than crammed down your godamn pant leg looking withered, and feebly singing “nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen, nobody knows my sorrow” cause I am ABSOLUTELY certain that it was not happy in there. It’s like when you take off a strapless bra at the end of the night, you know that feeling?

Unfortunately the only remedy for one tall crazy man, is another…

So, you see, this is just the beginning, although I seem to have started things in what seems to be the middle. I invite you to join me in my hopefully hysterical accounts of the completely and totally ridiculous bullshit experiences I suffer in the world of dating. Live vicariously through me, laugh, roll your eyes, and hey if you have advice that’s cool too. It’s sure to be sarcastic, sexy, and insane, and perhaps if I’m lucky I’ll find a nice tall man to balance carefully on the threshold between normal and nuts along with me :)