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!