Mar
This is the beginning of a beautiful relationship
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 WOMEN’S 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 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 :)