Sober to Uber, The Sad Story of My Date With An Englishman Who Got Cut Off At The Bar

So  I know that I've wrote about all my nightmarish online dates from the past, but I HAD to share this one with you guys. This lovely, fun date is from a couple of weeks ago. Let's just say, it ended up with me hiding behind a pillar and putting his ass in an uber.

Now, you all know I have used almost every online dating site, trying to find the man of my dreams or at least close to it...but this one I'm definitely NOT proud of. Yes, peeps I used Tinder. As I was swiping left, which I do more often than swiping right I chose to swipe right on this one profile. Single dad...that's okay with me as long as he knows how to balance a relationship and his kids. Beautiful blue eyes...they were bigger than I'm use to, but hey who am I to discriminate against someone who can see into my future with those things. English accent...Yes, please Mr. Darcy! So what if I want to be a character in one of Jane Austens novels. An English accent is always so romantic, lovely and a goddamn turn on. How could this date go wrong? 

So, he had called me while I was celebrating the death of my favorite bar, Quality Social. We had made plans to meet at West Coast Tavern. Can I tell you, that accent had me melting into the phone like butter on a hot ass sidewalk in summer. My eyes rolled to the back of my head in pure delight as we said our goodbyes. 

I bid adieu to my friends and was on my way. 

I walked in, and of course being from this lovely city there isn't a bar that I can walk into where I don't know a soul. I don't know if that makes me friendly or a lush...hmmmm. Anywho, I saw my friend Cameron who is a bartender there (THANK GOD!!!!!!). Hey, if you've read my other post about my kidnapping then you know I'm cautious as hell! No need in being kidnapped and sold on the black market as a sex slave. So it was nice seeing a familiar, lovely face. 

He was sitting at the back of the bar, with two 7&7's. One, I like a guy who does his homework. Two, I'm not sure how I feel about someone preordering before I get there. Hey, I met this guy online...ahem, on Tinder...you never know, regardless of that tasty accent. 

So we sat, and talked about his kids, and his ex, and his kids, and his job, and his kids, and his ex all while I'm watching him down these drinks like water. He says to me, " I'm English, we can handle our alcohol." Unbeknownst to me, this was the furthest from the truth. He had ordered his third and I was on my second and he finished that one as quickly as the first. Holy Jesus, I think I've met my new drinking buddy. He tried to get the attention of the bartender by saying, "hey buddy, can I get another drink?" The bartender looked at him and said, "my name isn't buddy, it's Ryan. If you want another drink, ask for me by name." Um, so I know proper bar etiquette because I used to go out often. It's always best to know the person's name that's pouring your cocktail. So Ryan, poured him a water cutting him off. He refused to give him another drink. So I ordered a drink and my date looked at me with these GIGANTIC eyeballs, and I slid my drink over to him. At this point, I figured...hell, he's already in the friend box so why not take him to the greatest bar ever, Quality Social. I'm definitely one for introducing people to new friends, or maybe if I was lucky I could introduce him to an unsuspecting female and I would be off the hook. 

We walked in and so much debauchery ensued. So many bottles of alcohol were being consumed. We approached the bar, and my friend handed him a bottle of champagne.  He finished that bottle in 5 minutes. I kid you not!!!! We went out on the patio and there was a bottle of Patron Silver sitting there and he decided to pour shots for everyone including himself. One, shot after the other was demolished. Before I knew it, that bottle was empty. I noticed that he started to slur and I mean SLUUUUUUUR....so have you guys been keeping track of the amount of alcohol that was consumed by my date, yet? He went inside to get water...and yes, I said water. Why ruin this amazing show with water?!? I started talking to this guy about my banana nut bread recipe and my date pulls me away by my arm and tells me that every guy on the patio wants to fuck me. Ummmmm, okay...weirdo!!! Then, my friends came out to smoke a cigarette and I stood by them watching this train wreck of a man attempt to make conversation with strangers while spilling shots of tequila. WHERE IN THE HELL DID HE FIND ANOTHER BOTTLE!?! He almost falls trying to turn around, points my way and slurs, " THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND OVER THERE AND IM GOING TO FUCK HER SO HARD TONIGHT!!!!" My face, oh my face, oh the look on my face was priceless. I know I'm a black girl and I can't turn white from shock. But if I could, it would have been at that moment. Not eggshell, vanilla or cream. Like ghost WHITE!!! 

He came over to me and slurred, "imma goingish bathroom, dontcha mood over okay?" I watched in complete shock as he walked away that my English gentleman is a drunk...like MAJOR drunk. Those dreams of being a character in a romantic English love story...GONE, POOF, VANISHED. 

I watched him barely walk back to the patio and decided to take it upon myself and hide behind the brick column. At this point, he was so drunk I just wanted him to disappear.  Maybe he'll find his way home without my assistance.  I watched him as he took out his phone to text me. Come to find out later, he sent me 13 texts. How do you slur in a text, c'mon? He barely walked in and out and finally up the street. It was like watching a zombie from The Walking Dead. He was still texting me, my friends were laughing and I wanted to die of embarrassment.  Like dig a grave and I'll jump in!!!! I felt bad, so I walked up to him, got him to order his own damn uber, put him in it and said my goodbyes. I walked across the street and noticed that his uber wasn't moving. So I had to walk back across the street and find out why. His uber driver asked if he was okay because he tried to ask him where his destination was and all he got was....670sulfhdxg4jkgf9...blah, blah, blah. I assured him that he NEEDED to go and he was fine. They took off. Thank Fucking God I didn't have to deal with him anymore. Talk about babysitting!!!!

I'm Not Really In A Drug Mule Car... Am I?

Yes folks, it's true....my date picked me up in a drug mule car. Now, I'm sure you all are thinking,  WTF?!?.....I did as well. 

So, this story is a bit different, and by different, I mean NUTS!!! I met "Coke-asaurus" years ago at Sidebar. I always thought he was hot, sexy and so tall!! Like Paul Bunyan tall. And you know what they say about tall men with big feet....BIG SHOES!!! We had a ton of mutual friends and he liked the social scene...my perfect dude. Well I hadn't seen him in a few years, so I always wondered what happened to him? Fast forward six years and he popped up on my POF feed. Can't say that I wasn't excited, because I was!!! He sent me a message and that's how it all started.  I thought, what could go wrong? I've known Coke-asaurus for over six years. We agreed on a date and that was that.

We had exchanged a few text messages and he  said that he was coming from Cabo Cantina, hanging out with friends watching the playoffs. I asked him if he had been drinking and he answered with a stern, "NO!". He showed up on my doorstep a little disheveled.  I asked if he was okay and then what I thought was the truth, he explained that he only had a pitcher of beer with his friends. I figured, a big dude like this could handle drinking a couple beers so I trusted him to drive. He excused himself to my bathroom, came out and looked like the man that should of showed up in the first place.

He helped me down my driveway like a gentleman.  Opened my car door, took my hand and helped me into the car. So far, things were awesome. He wanted to go to a chill restaurant so we agreed on Turf Club. Awesome drinks, good food that you have to cook yourself and awesome drinks...I like awesome drinks!!! We ordered and I noticed he was drinking his cocktails kind of fast. After his fifth drink, he blurted out that he actually had six pitchers of beer. I looked at him completely stunned. Coke-asaurus is an alcoholic!!! He should not be standing! 

I excused myself from the table to go make a phone call and when I came back I noticed he wasn't sitting at the table. Suddenly, he ran up to me grabbing my arm and rushed me out the door. I looked at him, and was like "WHAT THE FUCK!, where did you go and why did we have to leave?" He looked at me while cracking up and explained that he wanted to play a joke on me, so when I got back I would think that he took off leaving me with the bill. But instead the fucking idiot got us kicked out because he decided that the best place to hide was in Turf Clubs kitchen. I asked him for the keys, because he was obviously not driving. At this point, my gut should have warned me, and it didn't. He wanted to continue the date,  so I figured that we'll go to a place that I'm familiar with....La Puerta. We had a shot each, and then he took me by the hand and drug me to Las Hadas next door. I guess he knew the owner because he was at the bar taking shot after shot with this guy. I went outside to get some air and this guy approached me. We started talking about the restaurant and Coke-asaurus came out screaming at the guy, and started throwing punches. I'm like, this is not happening,  this is NOT happening.  A few of the employees and myself were trying to hold this big dude back and I calmed him down. Now I'm dealing with Drunk-asaurus...FML! I told him that I was going to go. He grabbed my arms softly, turned my body towards him and with those giant brown eyes, he apologized and said that I could drive us home and he would figure something out. At this point I know (I'm dumb, I'm dumb, I'm dumb). I took the keys out of his hand and walked him to the car. (NOTE: It was a brand new X6 and I was like, hell yes...I get to drive this baby TWICE!!!) We're on our way to my house and he looks at me and says, "You need to drive faster"...I'm like, "WHAT?!?"...I'm driving the speed limit. He explained that there is "stuff" in the back. I turned around and looked in the back seat. I didn't see anything. I look at him completely puzzled. He repeats, "there is stuff in the back"... but using air quotations.  I answered back in a high pitch voice..."STUFF, WHAT KIND OF STUFF"? I know what this fucker is about to tell me, and I'm going to freak the hell out! He yells, "COKE....THERE'S A LOT OF COKE IN THE BACK OF THIS CAR!!!" I pulled the car over immediately,  started screaming at the top of my lungs, "YOU HAVE ME DRIVING A COKE MULE CAR?!? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!!!" He started trying to calm me down because at this point I'm hyperventilating and cussing him out. He takes the key out of the ignition, locks the doors, walks around, unlocks the doors, pulls me out by my arm, shoves me in the passenger seat, locks the doors, unlocks the drivers side door so he can get in. He starts the car up, looks at me with anger in his eyes and says, "You're not going home". He flipped a bitch and we started driving down Market towards downtown. I told him that I would call the police. I took out my phone, began dialing and he grabbed my phone from me and tucked it in his crotch. I had no clue where we were or how we got there, but he told me to shut the fuck up. We pulled into a garage and parked the drug mule car in a spot. He explained that Im not going to say a peep considering that he could ruin me. I'm thinking, what the hell are you going to ruin, so I started to yell. He took his finger, put it against my temple like a gun and said, "We are leaving this car here for its owner to come pick up, unload it and return it to this spot. You are going to cooperate because I have your phone"...and as he was explaining how he would ruin my life he takes my purse, removes my wallet and fishes out my ID and anything that had my name on it. Throws my wallet back in my purse and hands me back my purse. He has my phone in his hand along with my other possessions and totally takes my phone apart. I'm FREAKING the hell out!!!! He pulls me out of the car and we proceed to walk towards the elevator.  So this is the size difference. ..He is 6'4" maybe 240 lbs. I'm 5'6" 130 lbs...do you get me here? I'm powerless. We arrive on his floor, and I remembered it on purpose. He opens the door and this huge pit bull greets us at the door. He licks my hand, but personally I think he wanted a taste before he devoured me whole. COKE-asaurus pulled me towards his room. He pulled out an ungodly amount of cocaine and started doing line after line. His nose looked like the coming of Christmas...All white and snowy. He then proceeded to take his guns out of the closet. Sawed off shotguns, rifles, hand guns....I was seriously freaking the hell out. He kept repeating, "Your dad isn't going to kill me without a fight.  He isn't going to come in here and end me without retribution!" All I told him was that my dad was in the import/export type business and he assumed that my dad was part of a cartel. I'm watching this guy load his guns and repeating "your dad isn't going to kill me" over and over.  I was trying to think of a way that I could get out of this, but he has my phone and my possessions.  I waited around, watching him pace back and forth with sawed off shotgun in hand, doing lines of coke and repeating "your dad isn't going to kill me"!

Finally, he drifted off to sleep and his phone kept going off. I waited to see if he would answer and he didn't so I busted ass trying to grab my stuff quietly and get the hell out of there. I made a mad dash past the pit bull and headed towards the elevator.  I had no clue where I was but thank GOD there was an emergency map near the elevator and it had the address printed above it. I put my phone together and called my girlfriend, asked her to come get me. Once I was safely in her car, I told her the story of my kidnapping.  Finally, we got home. I sat down on my couch, thanking God that I was still alive and in that moment I got a text, FROM HIM!!! He had the nerve to ask me why I left? 

You know,  I've run into him a couple times in Pacific Beach at Firehouse and Shore Club and I tell my friends the crazy ass story, while pointing him out and I really don't think they believe me. It's sad really....

You Need To Take Your Ass To The Doctor!!!!

Well, I'll be honest. I've already had the chickenpox and thank God!!! Adult chickenpox is NO JOKE and this guy made it apparent that he was going through HELL!!!!!

I met Chicky Itchy on POF. His profile seemed genuine. His pictures made me smile and his words were entertaining. I'm not going to say that I was thinking of my future with this guy...(2-3 kids, a golden retriever, a large house with a white picket fence and professional kitchen and a nanny). But he seemed cool and I'm never one to reject new friends. We exchanged phone numbers and man did that change his game. Oh, his voice melted my panties right off. He spoke of his childhood in Ohio and how it was growing up on a farm..( the sound of brakes screeching in my mind)....wait...did he say FARM?!? I hope he doesn't expect me milk a cow?!? I didn't take 4H, I'm from San Diego. So anywho, he spoke of his family and how his parents are still married. It's comforting to hear that ones parents are still together. It gives you an idea on how this man will be in a relationship.  Whoopie!!! I felt like I hit the jackpot!!!

After our three hour conversation we agreed to meet for sushi which is perfect because in my world, sushi is a main food group for me. He actually let me pick the place and of course I picked RK Sushi on Washington.  I know there are better places, but this place makes my favorite roll and it's not a stuck up, stuffy place. Great food, cold sake and great customer service. 

He was waiting out front for me. But I noticed that he kept scratching his chest, his neck, his arms...pretty much every appendage.  Maybe it was a nervous tick. As I approached, I saw these little lesions on his face and arms. He didn't look anything like the healthy man I saw in his pictures.  This man was gaunt looking. His skin was a pastie gray. He looked as if he was half the person that I was suppose to meet. I felt so bad. I introduced myself and he went in for a hug and I held out my hand instead. At this point, I don't know what Chicky Itchy has. I asked him if he was okay. He said he was feeling fine except the "minor" 104 degree temperature and these lesions that showed up before meeting me online. I looked at him, as he scratched his head, then his arm and then his package. And man, was he going at his package. Scratching it so hard, I thought he would have scratched his pens and balls right off!!!  He apologized and didn't know why he was so itchy? I watched his hand reach around to his backside and he started scratching his ass. I felt so awful for this guy. I asked him if he has ever had chickenpox? He looked at me with such disgust on his face and answered with a stern, "NO", as he continued to scratch his ass and package!!! He acted like I asked him if he had HIV?!? 

Well, I looked at him and told him that I suspected that he had chickenpox. At this point, he has scratched his lesions so badly that they were starting to bleed. I told him that I think he needs to go to the doctor. He looked at me, with anger in his eyes and said, "Fuck You...if you think you're too good to have sushi with me, i'll just take my ass to the doctor. All you had to say was that you didn't want to continue this date. I'm better than you anyway!" 

He stomped off like a child who just got his toy taken away, got in his Infiniti and screeched off. Chicky Itchy was obviously a Dicky Wickey!!! I dodged another bullet!!!

Have You Ever Heard Of Depends?!?

I can't believe I'm admitting this to all of you. Of course I have my other embarrassing posts, but thank God I was on the other side of the "table". This is a truly "shitty" story...no pun intended!  So here we go...

I met Shitty McShitterson on POF. Yes, I know there are SOOOOOO many winners on that site but hey, this woman stays hopeful. So, he was average height of 5'11" (I'm about that in heels). His hair was like waves of the silkiest chocolate and his eyes were the color of fall. He was beautiful. Our conversation was kind of bland but I didn't really care. Looks takes you a long way and man I was surprised that this Adonis was single. We spoke on the phone and he sounded odd. I had asked him if he was okay and he said absolutely except for the fact that he was on the tail end of having food poisoning. He said that he had endured the most draining experience from the rooter to the tooter, aka he did nothing but throw up and shit (lovely, I know). I told him that we didn't have to meet up until he felt 100 percent. He said he was confident in his health that he would be fine. I said okay, but to be honest, I kinda knew this was going to end up in a huge shit pile. 

He wanted to try a new place so we met at Cowboy Star. Great steakhouse and an amazing staff. I walked in and there he was sitting at a table in the corner. Had I known what was going to happen on this date, I would have picked a COMPLETELY different table...outside. 

The conversation was much better in person,  thank God. He was telling some pretty good jokes and told me his life story which, surprisingly was interesting.  He had genuinely piqued my interest. I started to notice these little beads of sweat forming rivers on his forehead. He wiped his face and continued telling his story. He paused and he grabbed his lower regions. I heard his stomach make a growl that made the people at the table glance over. His stomach was growling so loud, like serious angry sounds. Even the server could hear in that loud ass restaurant. She came over to ask if everything was okay. He suddenly gripped the table, looked at me with empty red eyes and apologized. I said, "for what"? And suddenly, a look of relief washed over his face and the most ungodly of scents whiffed under my nose. I looked at him, placed my finger under my nose in hopes that whatever came out of him wouldn't affect my smell forever. I'm talking about a combination of bad seafood, rancid steak and rotten asparagus. God damn, this was the worst smell I have ever experienced. Shitty McShitterson just shit his pants. I guess he had been holding it between the story of how his parents met and one of his jokes. The people next to us moved tables. In fact, the patrons of the restaurant moved at least a few feet from our table. The look of disgust was digging into me from every eyeball in the place.

 He jumped up grabbing his ass, and rushed to the men's room. I felt so bad for the guy, so I stayed and waited for him to return. And I waited.  And I waited. And I waited. I don't think Shitty is going to come out of the men's room. I was about to grab my purse to vacate that stinky ass environment when a much mature woman entered the restaurant,  greeting the hostess with a mom-like smile holding a pair of pants.  She ran right past me and headed straight to the men's room. I don't think I was ready for a family reunion and I'm almost sure that a little bit of Shitty died....of embarrassment. So I grabbed my purse and left money for the meal I was taking home and tip. Dude, this guy seriously shit his pants....on our date. First and last time that has ever happen.

I'm Sorry, Did You Just Say You Used To Wear An Orange Jumpsuit?!?

So as you all know, I am very blunt and honest. Nothing says honesty than putting your shit out there on a blog...RIGHT!!! Well this is definitely one of those stories. 

I met this guy on Match. He was hilarious with his words and gorgeous to boot. Eyes the shade of the clearest of skies, hair the color of wheat and a killer smile. What more could I ask for? He was 6'6" (HELLO!!! Can you say, tall athletic children. Can you also say, basketball scholarships!! FREE COLLEGE, Woohoo!!!) He had a master's degree (Thank God he can read). Damn, this guy was awesome on paper...well on screen but could he boyfriend material? There's always a potential in meeting someone, but as you've read in my previous posts...I meet A LOT of winners. 

After exchanging a few emails, we decided to meet. So he picked Cafe Chloe. Great choice for a first date. Great food and a never ending list of wines. I approached this man that could of been my date, but WTF is on his ankle?!? Is that an ankle monitor? Oh Jesus, how the fuck did I get myself into this one and he better have a creative story behind that thing on his leg. I decided to hold back my words just to see if he would explain this shit. So, I greeted him and he leaned in to give me a kiss on my cheek. His eyes sparkled and his smile was warm like the sun. Now throughout this entire date I know myself and that ankle monitor is going to be on my mind...damn! 

The conversation couldn't have been more smooth. I laughed, he laughed. I listened, he listened. There was no over-talking...it was amazing. He checked every characteristic on my list that i've been looking for...dammit!!! 

Well I asked him what he did for a living because it wasn't listed on his profile. NOTE: ( Peeps, always do your background work. Study your online dates profile...that way if he/she lies, you can catch them in his/hers bullshit.) So anywho, he explained to me that he used to be in the financial investment industry until ten years ago. So, in my mind I'm screaming to myself...please, please, please don't say you've been in jail for ten years. So I'm looking and listening intently to his story of grandeur. Homes in five different cities, only the best of cars in his garages, box seats at the opera, a personal tailor, limousines and car services, gifts of jewels and trips, etc.....and then he drops the biggest of bombs! Like a Hiroshima sized bomb!!! "Jailbird" huffs, pauses and explains that he just finished doing ten years in the pen for insider trading. IN THE FUCKING PEN PEOPLE!!! And now he was on probation for five years. He stuck his leg out to show me his ankle monitor. That thing was strapped around his funky socks like a tick on a dog. It wasn't moving. It kinda looked like a larger version of a pager with a strap. I couldn't keep my eyes off  of it. 

So he continued to complain about the food, the orange jumpsuit, the shoes and his cell mate. OMG, I'm out with a jailbird!!! He just spewed stories of pen activity. How difficult it was to get action, but he found a way (I don't even want to know if it was his hand, some dude named Tyrell or a broom handle). So after he was done, I guess I looked like I was in shock because he asked me if I was alright? To be honest, all I could imagine was him getting banged by Tyrell, and he would definitely be a bottom...he's too pretty. 

So, we said our goodbyes and I wished him the best...As I walked away a chill went down my back...eeewwww, Tyrell....

Did You Just Say My Toes Look Like Skittles And You Want To Taste The Rainbow?!?

I knew there was a problem with this guy, when he told me my toes looked so delicious, they look like skittles. I'm going to call this one "Toe Jam Sam". I met him on Match. At first our emails back and forth were AMAZING! Never did I meet such an eloquent writer of words. We shared personal stories of humility,  tragedies and just plain stupid stuff. I was in complete awe of this man. He was in the financial industry. Can you say..."cha-ching". With a great job, wonderful personality how could I not meet him. As usual, he picked the place. 

So there I was, with a little skip in my step, a little sugar in my walk and a huge smile on my face because I was going to meet the man of my dreams. Little did I know, that "Toe Jam Sam" had a fondness for feet. 

Now, I have always had this thing about toes. I hate ugly ass feet. Can't stand them. If they were not well pedicured, you are not welcomed in my bed. If you have talons as toes, you are not shredding my fifteen hundred thread count sheets. No thank you! It's not happening...ever! If you can write on a chalkboard with your ashy feet, then please find a bottle of lotion or Johnsons Baby Oil. I think this issue comes from two things...my father's yucky feet and the movie Boomerang.  My dad had the worst feet I have ever seen. I'm talking about crusty, dry and nasty. Like someone dripped acid on his toenails, let them bubble up and harden. Not only was I surprised that my mom didn't care but neither did my step-mom. YUCK! If you've ever seen Boomerang,  then you'll remember the scene when Eddie Murphy pulled the sheets back to reveal Lela Rochons toes and to his surprise they were beautiful.  He laid his head back down on the pillow and let out a sigh of relief.  Well, since then my toes are always a priority especially if I have a date. My toes are done every two weeks, RELIGIOUSLY! 

So getting back to my date, I met him for lunch at the Cottage in La Jolla. Now, this little spot is awesome for people watching and they have great and healthy food. I've been eating here for years and never feel like a fat ass when I leave. I always feel healthy. 

So, I saw him sitting at a table closest to the exit...perfect for a quick getaway, I thought to myself. We greeted each other and as I sat down he intensely gazed at my toes. He proceeded to compliment them as if that's all I was...One big foot. He went on to compliment the shape, color and lack of cuticles. I was like, this is SUPER strange! This man continued to talk about my toes until he was interrupted by the server. She took our order and walked away. I ordered a nice glass of chilled chardonnay and he ordered a white wine spritzer (it IS during the day, and whiskey makes me friskey and I don't give anything up on the first date). I really thought that would be it for foot conversation,  but oh no! He asked me what size shoe I wore,  what's my favorite style of shoe, what's my favorite toenail color, have I ever had a man service my feet? SERVICE MY FEET, WTF?!? They're feet, not a car. The food comes and just as I dig into my oriental chicken salad, he asks me if he could take a picture of my feet for his personal collection? I'm trying to think, where the hell my perfect partner in crime went and who the fuck was this guy? He came off SO normal in his emails and this guy wants to basically eat my toes, caress my toes and enjoy them. He continued to tell me how he loves to eat food off of feet, lick in between the toes, and "shoot his load" on toes. He went on to tell me that he loves when girls wiggle their toes on his balls, under and on top, how much he likes his cock stroked by feet, and how he has a shoe collection that would make ANY drag queen jealous. I'm thinking, this dude belongs in the looney bin. 

He dropped his fork, told me to continue eating. I was really weirded out at this point, but hell no...is that a bottle of lotion he's pulled out of his suit jacket?!? The man carries hotel sample size lotion?!? He puts the bottle right next to him and starts to unbuckle my sandal. And the most creepy part about this is he has a Joker grin on his face and he's staring at me intently.  He is seriously going to massage my feet on the patio of this restaurant, with everyone to see. I yank my foot back, try to eat my salad as quickly as possible (I'm not going to waste that delicious salad) and get the hell out of dodge. As I got up to say goodbye, "Toe Jam Sam" yells out in front of the whole patio...."AT LEAST LET ME LICK THEM A LITTLE!!!"

Bitch...You Are F-A-B-U-L-O-U-S (SNAP, SNAP)!!!!

Well my loves, it is true...I have been on a date with who I assume was "gay". My gay friends, aka my gay husbands all call me a "fruit fly." I'm totally supportive of anything gay, lesbian, transgender, and bisexual. I've volunteered for Mama's Kitchen since I was sixteen.  So I'm extremely passionate about gay rights. I think you're hearing me. But, oh boy I didn't expect to actually go on a "date" with a suspected gay man. On his profile he looked like a complete metro-sexual. Perfectly done eyebrows. Gorgeous alabaster skin. White chiclet (gum) like teeth. Cheekbones that would stop a drag queen in her size sixteen tracks. And that hair, oh that hair! I know this man has a hair product collection to rival any salon. (NOTE: I don't usually date men that posses more hair products than myself. I have an excuse...I have a vagina!) (NOTE 2: This was from my twenties, so I definitely don't do the metro-sexual male any longer. I love men that are manly, good with their hands and can throw me around the room.)

Anywho, he picked the place and we met at Nunu's.  Nunu's is a pretty laid back bar located between Downtown and Hillcrest. Great strong ass drinks, strong enough to make you forget your name or that you're a lady...it's happened to me before. Who makes out with a guy laying on the sidewalk...on a FIRST date!!! Now that was a fun date! 

So I walked into the bar and he was sitting in the first bar stool. He immediately stood up, snapped his fingers while screaming..."Yes, honey, Yes!" He took my hand and twirled me around. Now, it was still sunny outside so I was still mostly blind as I walked into this dark ass bar. He led me to the bar stool and snapped his fingers again and said, "Gurrrrl, you look FABULOUS! I'm loving the hair and the color of that blouse....FLAWLESS!" Wait, was I out with the "keeping it on the down low" guy? He wasn't doing such a good job, keeping it on the down low. We ordered our first round of drinks. I of course ordered a 7&7 and he ordered a Cosmo martini. I'm drinking an old school masculine cocktail and he's drinking the pussiest of pink drinks I've ever seen a man hold. It made his hands look a little feminine. I could not imagine these tiny woman like hands fondling my breasts at NO point. This just keeps getting better. He spoke of all the internet dates he's been on with girls. He explained that he was raised by all women, how they taught him to treat a lady right, manners and style. This explains alot! He told me about how "gay" friendly he was and how many of his friends are either drag queens or gay men. He also spoke and laughed about this party he went to in LA, where he ended up being the only "straight" man there. I'm just thinking, this guy could totally be my gay bestie! 

I couldn't help just staring at him because he was truly a beautiful man. But that's the problem. So basically every sexual thought I imagined was being popped by an imaginary pin. Dammit!!! After drink number 4, I felt like I had to ask. Was I in the midst of a "girlie" man or did he play on both sides of the fence? The thought of any kind of sex has been diminished so it's pretty much just curiosity at this point. So I asked him, " Have you ever been with a man?" He gasped so loudly that everyone in the bar looked at us. He open palmed his chest and looked disgusted. He snapped his fingers once again, this time in my face and said, "Oh, HELL NO YOU DIN'T!" I thought it was a fair question seeing that this man had more sugar coming out of him than the C&H Sugar Factory. He turned his whole body around in his bar stool, excused himself to the little boys room and diva walked to the bathroom. I shit you not! I mean he sashayed to the restroom with his hand on his hip. All I could see were rainbows and butterflies in his trail. There is no way this guy was straight. My gaydar was going off the scales!!!!

I finished my drink and at this point I would have rather been with my gay friends who are proud of who they are than this guy who is trying to run game. Dude, you drink like a girl, you look like a girl with gorgeous cheekbones, you walk like a girl....a spade is a spade! So, he returned from the restroom, sat down and started to explain every single sexual affair he's ever had with women. Anal, missionary, doggie style, in the park, in the car, in the shower, strap on's, vibrators, gag balls, whips, etc. I interrupted him mid sentence and had to ask about the strap on. "Who wore the strap on?", I questioned...he looked at me with the biggest eyes and answered...she did! He grabbed my hand and tried to convince me that he wasn't gay. I told him that I didn't care and we left it at that. I thought I would never see him again until my trip to San Fran. He is now a headliner at a drag club and looks F-A-B-U-L-O-U-S!!! I knew my gaydar worked fine!

Moby DICK Who?!?

I know that you guys have been waiting for this post. I hope you guys and gals enjoy it!!!

I'm definitely not a size queen and never have been. When your vagina is as shallow as a kiddie pool like mine, you don't have many choices left but I always make the best of it.
For me, it's not about the size of the wand, it's about how much magic the magician has. It's not about the size of the boat, how big his feet and hands are, and what's the measurement between his wrist and elbow...I could keep going on. Plainly, size doesn't matter... for me that is.
Now, I have dated some guys where their meat flutes were the size of a roll of dimes or smaller. I hear "awwwws" already from you readers.  Those that are a little small, make use of those throw pillows girls. Put them under your butt and raise that va-jay-jay in the air (Note: don't use the throw pillows with sequins, they'll give you a nasty sequin rash or rip the shit out of your lower back). I have also dated men that were of a normal size...Thank God for BUZZZZZZZZZZZ....toys to get the job done! But this one, this one was the BWW, aka Big White Whale. My Moby Dick!!!
I met Moby on Match and thought there might be some chemistry.  I said, to hell with it...So what else am I going to on a Wednesday night, knit?!? (I definitely don't knit.) So I made my way downtown to the Marble Room. In walked my date. Beautiful olive skin and a car sales men smile to match. Whatever he was selling, I was buying. But what was I seeing? As he approached the booth was that a huge bulge in his slacks. Maybe he has really big balls? Maybe this was the Chupacabra of Match. WTF!!! What was that going down the left side of his leg? No way that his penis. Maybe he keeps a bat in his pants. I mean it was as long and as wide as an Italian salami. Jesus, I think my vagina just cringed.
He sat down, shook my hand and I prepared for conversation to come. As usual,  the alcohol started flowing and so did the sexual innuendos.  I had to ask him about the long tube in his pants because it was definitely staring at me. Moby explained that most women are intimidated by his length especially at 13 inches soft. WTF?!? 13 INCHES!!! This guy had a shower dick. Now just in case you don't know what that is, it's when a guys meat stick is so long that even in the shower and multiple positions it won't ever vacate the vaj. I'm thinking to myself, I'm not trying to ride this meat pony. He continued to talk about his issues that he's had his whole life. I asked him if he ever thought of doing porn? He looked at me and asked, "how did you know?" Wait, what...IM OUT WITH A PORN STAR!!!! He explained all about his 29 movies he's starred in. All the positions that were best for his costars, that he's clean and just got HIV tested. WHAT!!! I just sat there with a blank look on my face and listened but in my mind, I was already in my car halfway home.

Did You Just "Bro" Me?!?

So, I'm sure if you live in beautiful ol San Diego,  you've encountered one or two hundred douchebags. This place is crawling with them. Like douchebag paradise,  douchebag-a-rama, and City of Douchebags..I think you get it! And it's not only one type of douchebag, there are a few. Well lucky me, I got "bro'd" to death on this amazing (NOT!!!) date. I thought that they never left their chosen region. You know like the bar, the gym, the beach, or downtown. But, I was oh so very wrong! This one found me online. ONLINE!!! I guess I should have known from all the party pics on his profile.

He was just a bit younger than me, and if you know me I'm not into babysitting but figured "hell, why not"? I usually date men who are my age or older but we all need to take a dip in the fountain of youth every once in awhile. BIG MISTAKE!

As you all know, I let the guy pick the location of the first date so he chose Firehouse in PB. That was his first red flag and it only gets better. Now I love Firehouse for their food, amazing staff and the great views of the ocean. I think he ruined it for me.

So I met him at the bar downstairs.  He walked in with his farmers tan and all. I reached out to shake his hand, and the little fucker gave me a high five and greeted me with a "What's up bro?" Wait, did this shit biscuit just "bro" me? WTF?!?!!!! Immediately I was ready to walk out, but I do love shots and the staff so I stayed. 

We were doing back to back drinks and shots although I was one up, but who's counting? Bro this and bro that just escaped his mouth every chance he could get. Ugh, why do I do this to myself?!?

So, I'm a very experienced drinker (hopefully I don't sound like an alcoholic) but I can definitely hold my liquor.  We did one more shot, and he had to excuse himself to the little boys room. I sat there and shot the shit with Gilmo. I noticed that he was in there for quite some time. I asked one of the guys to go check on the him and he came back to report that my date was blowing chunks.

We had only been sitting there for about an hour and a half and I wasn't even buzzed (now I definitely sound like an alcoholic) and this fucktard was spewing his guts all over the men's bathroom. 

He finally made it back, stumbling and holding onto the wall. He made it to the bar stool and slumped down. I asked if he was okay, and what I thought might have been English he slurs, "yesh blah blah blah". WTH!!! There is no way this guy can be that messed up already. So we start giving him water and in the middle of our conversation he looks at me with this blank stare. I watch his eyes slowly roll to the back of his head and SLAM..his head hits the table! He face planted right there on the bar. Gilmo and I look at each other, he pours me another 7&7 and continue shooting the shit. I closed out my tab and I left him right there at the bar. Looks like I didn't have to babysit after all! Amateurs...hahaha!

You're Not Digging For Green Gold, Are You...?!? WTF!!!!

We're going to call this one..."BA, aka..The Booger Addict"
I know we all have to pick our noses from time to time, I use a tissue like a lady should. But this guy gave a new meaning to digging for the green gold...it was more like drilling for it.
I met "BA" on POF.  He had a great profile, extremely well written. He was an accomplished college professor. I went through my mental checklist of attributes I'm mostly attracted to and he seemed to have met every one of them. He had a warm and welcoming smile and his witty charm came through in his profile. It was evident that we were definitely attracted to one another.
As usual, I let him pick the place so we met at Pappalecco's, a cute little coffee shop in Little Italy.  I'm totally fine with coffee dates. It just conveys to me that my date is either testing me and my prize might be dinner or he's cheap as hell. Either way, this place has great gelato so that made me happy.
For the first time my date was early. Very cute, extreme blue eyes and a smile that can warm any chilly heart. I'm assuming that he was follicly challenged at a young age because I couldn't help but notice my reflection in his forehead. Either way, he was adorable.
I sat down at our table out front and our conversation couldn't of started any better. He painted an almost perfect life except I noticed that he couldn't stop touching his nose. Was this a nervous tick? Anywho, we continued to laugh and tell our life stories, but dammit if he didn't do it again. Except this time, his finger went inside his nose for a brief second. I'm thinking that maybe he has really bad allergies. I mean it has been awfully dry lately so, yes that had to be it.
My phone kept going off so I quickly apologized for seeming rude by answering it. I reached around to get my phone out of my handbag and I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. WTF!!! He was full on picking his nose. I turned back around quickly and watched his finger brush by his mouth. Did this man just attempt to eat his boogers?!? Holy Jesus, I'm on a date with a "picker".
How could this be? He was good looking, extremely intelligent and seemed genuinely appreciative of my company. I looked at him with what I think was shock because he asked if I was alright. I excused myself to the ladies room and as I walked through I had to peak through the window to see if he would do it again. OMG!!! He was full on digging for green nuggets and putting that same finger in his mouth. Holy crap, was he chewing on his boogers?!? And he dug in the other nostril as well. FML, I'm out with the "Booger Addict"! I stood there in complete shock for a couple of minutes. Is he hungry? How full can someone get eating the crust from their nose? Does he know that this coffee shop makes sandwiches?
I returned to the table and he reached out to hold my hand and I couldn't. He went cave diving in those two holes called his nostrils. Um no!
I made up some BS story about my mom needing me. I said goodbye, smiled and almost sprinted to my car.
Note to self...pay attention to a man who has nostrils the size of quarters.

What The Hell Is That Smell....Did You Just Fart During The Second Course?!?

We're going to call this one, "Deejay Farts-Alot". This man gave a new meaning to flatulence.  I met this absolutely elegant man on Match. I read his profile profusely almost memorizing it. He was a thirty seven year old partner of a law firm in La Jolla. In my mind, I was already interviewing nannies and house shopping in the Luxurious Homes of San Diego magazine. He stood at five foot eleven which is perfect for my five inch heels. Great profile, hair like wheat, and eyes like fall leaves. Our children would have been gorgeous! Operative word being used here..."would". So we exchanged emails, funny lawyer jokes and emoticons. I had to meet this man. I'm no eager beaver, but damn! So, he planned a lovely date at Eddie V's in La Jolla.  He was waiting for me at the valet booth. He must have just gotten off from work because the man was still looking absolutely SEXY in his two thousand dollar Armani suit (don't judge, I know my brands). At this point, I'm still thinking....okay I have morals, no having sex on the first date. That is a no no! But seriously, DAMN!!!! I was trying to hurry inside so I don't change my mind about dinner, wanting to take him by the hand, lead him to my car and do really bad things. As we walked through the doorway, something smelly...REALLY SMELLY breezed by my nose. I turned around and looked at him and he flashed his pearly whites. I recalled, we were very close to the seals so I'm sure it was them. 

We sat at a lovely table in the corner (had I thought that this would have been the biggest mistake ever, I would have asked for a booth) Candlelight and an intimate setting couldn't have been any more perfect until that smell appeared again. I'm thinking, what the hell is that smell? I know it wasn't me, but just to make sure I started doing the undercover sniffs that women do so we don't look like idiots. 

The conversation was exciting with lawyer jokes tucked in between sarcastic pokes at each other. We were mutually cracking up. He ordered a bottle of Opus One...again, DAMN! I was enjoying my first sip when I heard this odd sound coming from his side of the table. Did this man just pass gas in a four star restaurant? He didn't miss a beat. He continued to gab just like nothing happened. In my mind, we were married with two kids and a nanny, a golden retriever, a plantation house, a summer house, and "Deejay Farts-Alot " is blowing up the restaurant.  I had no words. This man is ruining my future fantasy. All because his ass is expelling nauseous gas. 

I tried my hardest to continue the conversation but it seemed like every ten minutes this shit smelling cloud would hover under my nose. I'm smiling but trying to hold my breath.  He asked me if I was okay because I think my face was the shade of eggplant. I told him I was fine and the conversation continued as well as holding my breath and trying not to pass the hell out. My steak FINALLY came and thank God it smelled delicious. Definitely better than the air in that corner table. I cut into my juicy steak and right on the horizon of my sight, "Deejay Farts-Alot" tilted his body to the left. Did he just lift an ass cheek, forcing one out? OMG!!!! That was the last straw! I had to ask him, "Dude what's up with the flatulence, I'm trying to enjoy this delightful side of cow and your gas is causing me to tear!" He leaned towards me, almost like he was going to tell me a secret and let out the most obnoxious sounding fart. I was so embarrassed, that I took my napkin and covered half my face. I did not want to be associated with him, AT ALL!!! How the hell do I get out of this fart fog? And the thing is, he didn't even apologize. He asked if I wanted another bottle of Opus One.  Of course I stayed for that, but as soon as that bottle was done, I exited stage left! Does Armani suits come with a fart guards?

Is That Pre Cum....Or Are You Happy To See Me?!?

We're going to call this one, "Senior Neaty Freaky Single Pump Chump "...I'm sure you know where I'm going with this. This story is a bit different,  since I went on not one but two dates. The first date made me feel bad for the guy unlike all the ratchets I've been out with.

I met "Senior Neaty Freaky Single Pump Chump" on a lovely dating site called Match. I'm sure you guys have heard that it's a respectable site for those truly looking for love. I received a very nice email from a man who wasn't really my type, but let's be honest...What the HELL is my type?!? I just knew that he wrote extremely eloquently and had a beautiful smile in ALL his pictures. So we exchanged emails, then numbers and from there came schedules. I always let the man pick the place for the first date. Hey, I'm all for compromising. If we make it to the second date, the lady gets to choose. So, I found myself on my way to the Prado in Balboa Park. 

The Prado has wonderful food and really great memories for me. Anywho, I met him at the hostess stand and we were led to a table overlooking the park. I don't know about you but I love when a man puts his hand on the small of your back. It's almost like he's screaming "she's mine," to the whole room. Like a dog pissing on a bush marking his territory. He was already earning points! 

We sat, (he rearranged the silverware on the table), we drank, (he asked for three of the same glasses of water, claiming they were all cloudy), we ate (he kept rearranging his plate) and laughed like two old biddies sitting on a park bench. The conversation was exciting. He was so intriguing in every way. From mountain climbing in the Alps to providing clean water in some small village in Africa. Could this be true? Have I found the perfect man, a male version of Mother Teresa?  So far, he has a platinum tongue and a heart of gold. 

I excused myself to the ladies room where of course I did a little "Googling." Yes, on the toilet. Hey, im all for multitasking, even in the bathroom. I know you guys do the same thing. So, he was actually truthful about everything. EVERYTHING!!!! Could this be, an honest online date? It's like seeing a unicorn, these types of guys DON'T don't exist! I returned back to the table and we left shortly after. We took a short walk through the gardens. And then, right there between two different types of orchids...he leaned in, pulled me close by the small of my back and laid those luscious lips on mine. As quickly as our kiss happened, his body jerked, he pushed me away while grabbing his junk. WTF!! I knew it wasn't my breath, since popping some mints right before whatever that was. Slowly, a wet spot started to appear on his crotch. I think this man came in his khakis!!! He started to apologize while trying to hide the jizz stain. I've never seen that happen in my life!!! It's happened while in the bedroom, but not in the Botanical Garden. I felt so bad. He was incredibly embarrassed. And before I knew it, he poofed out like Casper the Friendly Ghost. I know I can kiss, but DAMN!!! I knew I was never going to hear from "Senior Neaty Freaky Single Pump Chump" again. Boy was I wrong...

I got a text a couple of days later from him. The poor guy was so apologetic and so embarrassed I felt awful, so I agreed to have dinner with him. 

I arrived at his place in La Jolla with a couple bottles of wine and a dress that could cause the hardest of hard-ons. I knew I was going to get saluted from the waist down that's for sure! I knew I looked good, so maybe I'll get a kiss that will last longer than a two second orgasm. Maybe a lil somethin', somethin'....Hey, I was having a major dry spell!!!! 

Dinner was amazing! Conversation was amazing! He looked amazing!!! It was amazing all around. I did notice a TON of antibacterial hand gel but thought nothing of it. 

So we took it to the couch. He leaned in, placing his hand on the nape of my neck....and his body began to jerk...AGAIN!!! But at least his orgasm was a little longer this time! But DAMN, are you kidding me? He excused himself, grabbing his crotch, running to the bathroom while apologizing profusely.  All I wanted to do, was excuse myself, to my car...like RUN to my car but he came back sooner than later and I lost my window. 

He came out, rubbing his hands with that antibacterial gel, still apologizing for his "problem". So, I figured...hell I'm already here. The "kitty" is dressed and ready to go. It's been one heck of a dry spell and he's already blown a load...This should be perfect. 

We go into the bedroom. He undressed me slowly, caressing my skin. I made sure to pick out some killer lingerie.  And he took one look at me and the man exploded in his boxers. The man reached his sexual pleasure peak in the matter of five minutes or less. I can't believe this is the third time! "Senior Neaty Freaky Single Pump Chump" obviously has a premature ejaculating problem on top of washing his hands a million times. As I was trying to get dressed, I started to notice things about him and his place. Everything had its own place and even the vacuum lines were straight. OMG!!!! "Senior Neaty Freaky Single Pump Chump," not only has a premature ejaculation problem...he's OCD...OMG, FML...I wished him well. Hopefully, he'll find a woman who appreciates second "short" orgasms, cause that definitely ain't me!!!  

Excuse Me Sir.....You Want Me To Put that Zucchini Where?!?

We will call this one, "Captain Jerp-Alot".

I've dated every type of man there is, from complete normal vanilla types to the ultimate of crazies. Well this one is in my file of "complete nutzos."

I met this psycho on Plenty of Fish. He seemed normal, COMPLETELY NORMAL...maybe that was the problem.  He sent me a message with just a "hello". We started to communicate back and forth exchanging pleasantries.  I briefly looked at his profile again just to make sure he fit the bill. He was a professional, over six feet tall, blonde hair, hazel eyes, and was very athletic....well that's what I got from his pictures. At this point, I'm thinking....yup, vanilla. 

He wanted to meet up so I figured a wine bar would be best. Since my birthday, I've always had a fondness for Enoteca Style in Little Italy. They have amazing food and the manager is a hoot. So we agreed to meet there. 

(NOTE: Always pick a place where you know someone if you're meeting a blind date. And make sure it's a VERY public place.) Im not trying to get kidnapped and sold on the black market for slave sex fetishes. 

I'm always early, or at least try to be for most dates. I gave the manager who is also my friend, the back story to this guy just so he could keep a close eye.

I sat at a table in the corner and waited for my date. In walked my date with swag to boot. He was dressed well, smelled fantastic and looked like he was freshly shorn aka...He just got a haircut. We exchanged smiles as he sat down. He introduced himself nicely and not too aggressively. We ordered and away the wine flowed. 

I found out that he was from the "good" Connecticut and not the "bad" Connecticut (I had no idea what that meant, but whatever.) He was a Harvard graduate with a business degree of some sort. His parents are still married, showing me pictures of family vacations and family Christmas pictures with matching sweaters. He skies every winter in Vail, Colorado where his family owns a lodge. He has a dog named Husk since he's a Huskey....original, I think not. He drives a five series BMW and lives in a penthouse downtown. You couldn't get any more bland than this...RIGHT?!? 

Well, I don't know about you guys but this lady can drink some wine. So, we were on our fourth bottle of wine and things started to get a little steamy. Hey, I was definitely attracted to this guy and a little and I mean a little sexual talk never hurt anyone. We exchanged our funniest sexual situations to the most dull. "Where was the craziest place I've ever had sex?", he asked. I answered, "hot air balloon." Yes, I know that's a weird place but I was dating the owner of the company at the time. 

He asked, "what is the weirdest thing I've ever had sex with?" HUH?!? WTF?!? What the hell was he talking about? I know the comfort level was high, but damn not that high! My response with a bit of hesitation was, "penises."

He said, "That's it?" I mean, what woman doesn't have a drawer of toys and batteries? Hey, every woman has a dry spell, why not add a little vibration to her repertoire. He went on to ask if I've ever had sex with a banana, zucchini, or cucumber? I told him, I don't put veges or fruits in my hoo hah. I must of had the look of disgust because he asked me if I knew what "jerping" was? Um, hell no I don't know what "jerping" was...WTF!!!! In my mind, his stock had crashed and now I'm continuing this date out of pure entertainment.  I'm not trying to be with someone who wants to make a salad with vegetables he's stuck in my vagina. But I sat there, wanting to crack the hell up because this man was totally serious. "Captain Jerp-Alot" went on to explain that he may have an MBA but nothing says exquisite than having a cold hard vegetable in you. I asked him if he performs this on himself. He looked at me with the widest eyes, grabbing my hand and the most explosive "YES!!!!" jumped out of his mouth. 

At this point the date has been over since finding out "Captain Jerp-Alot" likes to bump uglies with fruits and veggies.  Who molests produce like that? I eat my fruit, not take it on a date and try to seduce it. Eeeewwwwwww!!!! 

I said my goodbyes and bounced. All I could imagine was "Captain Jerp-Alot" sticking a defenseless cucumber in his....eeewwwww!!!!

Ummmmm ....Are Those Stuffed Animals on Your Bed....WTF?!?

We're going to call this one "Sir Furry Flurry".

So, I decided to try Match about five years ago because after reading three of my friends engagement announcements on Facebook I figured, "hell why not?" They found love on Match, why couldn't I? I swore, if a fourth friend announced her engagement on Facebook,  I was going to pack up and move to a nunnery or slit my wrists....seriously.
Anywho, I logged into my account and noticed an absolutely lovely man who sent me message. He was funny and very personable in his message. Look, any guy who can make me chuckle through words, has my vote! So, I wrote him back. We continued to innocently flirt through messages and in his last one he wanted to meet me. I was very hopeful so I said "YES".
We met at Mister A's downtown. The view is killer and so is the food. I walked in and saw this handsome and distinguished looking gentleman sitting at the bar. He stood up to greet me, and thank God he was taller than me. Broad shoulders, gorgeous smile and style to kill, I thought I'd met my match. Our conversation flowed like a river. He was just as hilarious in person as he was in his messages.
We finished dinner and decided to take a walk. He was a complete gentlemen in every way. Opening doors, offering his coat to me, pulling out my chair...This man was pulling out all the stops.
We arrived in front of this beautiful building. He asked if I would be interested in a glass of wine. I figured, it should be okay. (Note: I'm a bit of a prude, so trying to get between my legs on the first date will never happen, EVER! I don't care about what you own or who you are, it ain't happenin'!)
His place was impeccable.  Gorgeous interior, beautiful kitchen, and amazing artwork.  He poured a glass of wine for me, but I had to use the washroom before I took my first sip. I asked him where it was located. I walked down this long hallway and passed the bathroom. Hey, I wanted to see where all the magic happened so the door to the master was already open. I opened it a bit more and was instantly stunned!!! Were those stuffed animals on his California king size bed?!? I'm not talking about his childhood teddy bear. This man had over thirty stuffed animals on his bed. Stuffed dogs, bears, horses, zebras, tigers, monkeys and koalas. This man had a full zoo on his bed. "Sir Furry Flurries" Ark!!! I don't have one stuffed animal on my bed or anywhere in my house and this guy has a ton.
He walked up behind me since I'm sure I was taking longer than the usual in the bathroom. He asked, "What do you think?" He ran past me and jumped on his bed and started rolling around in them like a happy pig in mud. I know if those animals had voices, they would be screaming bloody murder! He was rubbing them on his face and all over his body. He started moaning quite loudly. I was stunned. Completely STUNNED!!!! All I could think was, " that poor stuffed koala bear!" I was about to turn away to exit this horrific scene of beastiality when he asked me to join him. He shot up out of the bed and told me he had a surprise for me. He walked over to his walk in closet and pulled out all these furry animal costumes. One zebra and one horse in his size and one dog and one unicorn in a smaller size. He starts taking ALL his clothes off and puts the zebra costume on. I'm just staring at him with a gapped mouth and huge eyeballs. I mean, this is a grown ass man in a zebra costume. "Sir Furry Flurry" asks me, "do you know what furries are?" At this point, I'm speechless.  He goes on to give me the Urban Dictionary definition of a "furry." WTF?!? How the hell did I get myself into this and how the hell do I get myself out of it? A sickness, a meeting, asthma attack, a family emergency! Anything to get me out of this mess. "Sir Furry Flurry" is now prancing around his luxurious bedroom dressed as a zebra...A ZEBRA, people!!! He's rubbing up against his walls, dressers and anything else in that room while moaning his face off. He's actually turned on by wearing this costume. And let me say, I know that zebras are definitely packing more than this guy. I've watched one or two wildlife documentaries in my lifetime. He was rock hard and it was pointing right at me. HIS PENIS WAS SALUTING ME!!! He started to prance towards me, I dropped the costumes, grabbed my Fendi and bounced.  WTF was that? I'm hoping and praying that his elevator came before he did...

Excuse Me Sir, Do You Have Crabs?

So folks, here is another dating story from my archives of online dating. We will call this guy, "Mr. Crab Fest".  So, I've been dating online for five or six years. From Plenty of Fish to Match and now Tinder, I really can't make any of this stuff up. I met "Mr. Crab Fest" on POF and I thought he couldn't of been anymore perfect. He had eyes the color of sea glass, so beautiful I was seriously thinking of multiracial babies with these eyes. He had gorgeous tan skin just like Cinnamon Toast Crunch, amazingly delicious. Oh, and his lips...God his lips were full and beautiful like two delicious plump pink pillows. This man was GORGEOUS!!! If a man has me thinking of procreating, then he must be from the heavens.

So, we agreed to meet at Searsucker downtown.  I am usually on time or a bit early so I can do one last check before meeting my date. As I was coming out of the women's restroom, in walks this adonis! Every woman snapped their head back just to watch this man walk. But I noticed as he was walking in, he kept adjusting himself. I figured, hell this man might just be the size of a VERY large salami or he is wearing some pretty tight chonies. He looked like a million bucks, a billion bucks, maybe even a trillion bucks. But his hand kept creeping towards his junk. 

I met him at the bar for a cocktail. My go to date drink is either a 7&7 or a glass of pinot noir. I drink 7&7's if I need a stiff one because my date is a disaster and looks a hot mess and a glass of pinot if I want to linger a bit longer because this man has my attention. 

So "Mr. Crab Fest" was a delight to talk to. Very well spoken and knew how to crack jokes. Unfortunately,  the punch line came after he scratched his schlong. Yes peeps, this man was a hardcore scratcher. I couldn't help it, my eyes would always drift towards his crotch because his hand remained there. I mean, scratching worse than anyone who has ever had eczema. Scratching worse than getting bit by a few hundred fleas. Grabbing at that thing like he was trying to keep it from falling off. Using any part of his arm to rub it, tug it and scratch it. And he was somewhat hard!!! He was making himself HARD!!! His eyes would roll to the back of his head like he was about to achieve ecstasy from scratching. He grabbed my arm and let out a slight moan and quickly tried to regain his composure. This guy was having an orgasm from his scratching. He basically came in his slacks.  This is the first time in my life that I know that it wasn't me that turned this man on. I've never seen such a thing. Could this be? Could this beautiful man have crabs?!?! He looks so clean, like he's never done a dirty thing in his life. 

That was it, I had to ask him...."Are you okay?" "What's going on down there?" "Are your briefs too tight?" And yes, I really did ask him. 

He looked at me, and apologized for scratching. He explained to me that he just returned from partying in Vegas and slept with a "FEW" girls and now he can't stop scratching.  Now, I have NEVER in my life encountered crabs myself, but come on!!!! You are a 36 year old man and you can't look up your symptoms on WebMD? I did everything I could to keep from cracking up laughing and looking disgusted. I had to excuse myself to the ladies room. As soon as I closed the door, I let out the loudest cackle I could. I mean, I was in complete tears. After getting my laughter out, I wiped my face and reapplied my makeup. I came back out and met him at the bar. As soon as I sat down, he asked me if that was me laughing? I just looked at him and admitted that it was. He started to turn red, got up almost knocking over the stool and briskly walked out of the restaurant.  I yelled out, "You need to do something about those crabs!"...My friend who is a bartender there just cracked up with me and poured me another drink.

(Note: If you have an STD, take care of that shit before you go on ANY dates!)

The Overeater...Aka Yes He Ate My Dinner

The truth is in the title folks! So, this date is definitely from the past. I'll say about 5 years ago. I met this guy on POF. His profile showed that he was athletic,  financially sound and confident which I don't know about you ladies but trying to find all of these qualities in a man is down right impossible (and that's only three qualities).  So I was like, WOO HOO, JACKPOT!!!! He was quite handsome in his pictures. They definitely looked like LinkedIn pictures with the clean haircut, nice tie and toothy grin. It's not like you really had much of a choice 5 years ago, and I was freshly back on the market so I figured..."hell, why not?" The guy has a chiseled jaw, magnificent blue eyes, he has all of his teeth, a job and a car. What could be so bad, RIGHT?!?
Well, we agreed to meet at El Camino in Little Italy.  I had never been there since they changed ownership so I wanted to try it. Little did I know that this was going to be dum, dum, dum....The date from over eaters anonymous!
I walked by this guy that had similar looks to they guy I was meeting but this guy had to be well over 150 lbs, so it couldn't of been him. I walked right past him and proceeded to touch the handle of the door when he called out my name! In a questioning sort of way, "Melissa?" exited those lips and I stopped dead in my tracks. Could this be, was this the same guy? I walked over, shook his hand and we went inside. The thoughts that were going through my mind would make me sound so immature,  so shallow but I couldn't help it. I look exactly like ALL my pictures and he DEFINITELY didn't.
So we sat down at the bar. The bartender handed us our menus and we ordered. He asked for some kind of sampler plate and I was trying to think of the fastest type food I could eat to get this date over with, so I ordered the chicken quesadilla.  We ordered drinks as well and I couldn't wait for my 7&7. So our food came and he started to devour his plate before it touched the bar. It was like watching a little Ethiopian kid eat rice for the first time. I just sat and smiled, while he smiled back at me with cheese and sour cream all over his mouth.  Trying to get over this disgusting scene, I started to eat. I was full about the fourth triangle, when I excused myself to the ladies room. When I got back from trying to plan my escape,  I noticed that my plate was completely empty. EMPTY PEOPLE!!!! I left my poor defenseless quesadilla with this man, and he murdered it!!!! I sat down next to him, and he said, "I assumed you were done, and I don't believe in wasting food." Obviously,  food never missed his mouth since this guy ate the guy I was originally supposed to meet. The bartender looked at me with sympathetic eyes, handed me another pity cocktail and said "you're going to need this, after this date."
So, I told my date that I had a family function to get to (LIE, but anything to get me out of this date!) (Sidenote: Your family members are the best scapegoats you have, so use them if necessary!)
So we said our goodbyes, and he tried to kiss me. I did the duck and dive method, since the man still had crusted over guacamole in the corner of his mouth. That was the last time I went out with "The Overeater....."

The Anal Guy, Aka Napoleon Anal....FML!!!!

Well folks, here's another lovely date story so fresh it happened last night. I know that I'm supposed to start from 6 years ago,  but I had to write about this one. I'm going to call him "The Anal Guy". So, he and I had been texting back and forth for weeks and we finally decided to meet last night. I figured since I knew what he looked like from his pictures and the hilarious content of his profile, that this was going to be a fun date. He picked the place, so we met at Basic in downtown San Diego.

I had gotten there a little early so I sat with my friend Jen at the bar. My date approached us and Jen left. We laughed and we talked shit. It was awesome until around our third drink....dum, dum, dum...and "anal" flew out of his mouth. My eyes popped out of my head and my mouth gaped open. (In my head, I'm thinking...."did this guy really just say ANAL?") He went on to ask me if I've ever tried anal before? I was still completely in shock,  like mortified. I answered, "Um, no. I don't like it, It's not my thing." So, he went on to ask me why I haven't tried it, how many girls have let him, that I should let him try...at least a finger, why it's better to have anal sex at night than in the morning because they're still bullets in the chamber in the morning, how important it is to do an enema because he's been in a situation with a girl who, ahem, didn't properly clean herself and they both ended up being covered in shit, what his method is and that it'll be very gentle? This conversation about anal went on for twenty minutes. TWENTY MINUTES!!!! Now, I'm not one to judge, but if a woman says no, then that should be the end of it...at least you would think. But no, then he talked about playing with anal toys, that the vibration will help the area relax. Oh, and I wished it stopped there. After our third drink, he asked if I wanted to go back to his place and "chill" and to "relax", maybe drink a little wine. The bartender asked if we wanted another and before he could tell her no, I said "YES, I'll take another 7&7!". He gave me the dirtiest look and ordered another beer. I couldn't drink my cocktail fast enough! I told him it was getting late and I needed to be up really early, (lie)...but hey, anything to get me out of this situation.  So we stood up to go and I didn't realize that Anal Guy is only 5'8"! I'm at least 6'0" tall with my wedges on....so basically I was out with Napoleon Anal! 

The best part is that when we were parting, he stood on his tippy toes to hug me and kiss me goodbye....WTF was I thinking!!! 

My Introduction.....Who Likes These?

Well what can I say? I'm 35, single, financially independent and I live in this beautiful city called San Diego. Unfortunately, dating here is a bit lacking. Being a strong woman in this city is depressing. Men call you "intimidating", "stuck up", and even "bitch" if they know you own property, pay your own bills and really don't require help. What am I, a damsel in distress? Uh, no. I'm just me.
So, I decided to cast a wider net and began online dating 5 years ago shortly after my long term relationship ended. I can't say it's been rainbows and unicorns, but I do have some hilarious stories to share. Example: A pre ejaculating, germaphobic man who couldn't help blowing his load in his boxer briefs EVERYTIME we made out within 10 minutes of swapping spit to another online date I didn't recognize because he was 150 lbs heavier than his pictures and he not only ate his food but mine as well, without my permission. The bartender looked at me with sympathetic eyes, handed me a pity cocktail and told me, "Hun, you're definitely going to need this especially after this date".
So I hope all of you will laugh, share and commiserate with me. Let's chew the fat ladies!!!!