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....
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