The Bounty Hunter

As I thought about what to write for today’s blog I realized that last weeks kinda sucked. I do not think that it was my best work and have decided that I am not going to share more Joseph stories right now. Down the road there will be more appropriate times to hear of him getting in fist fights at Red Rocks and about his mom giving me so many weed brownies that I could not remember my own name, but that is all for another day.

The truth is, I think finding someone worth dating is the stupidest and most exhausting thing in the whole world. When I found Joseph, it was easy and it worked, but since we broke up two years ago, I moved back to Denver and now finding a needle in a hay stack seems like a much easier task then finding someone to sit thru a dinner, or even a happy hour, with.

Now, I know as I write this I sound jaded, and sure, I am, however I have learned to keep that to myself.  The last guy I told that to ghosted me after a romp between the sheets. However, as I write this, I am for once not jaded.  I have managed to find someone with the same fucked up humor as me and things have been going great, but that’s not what this story is about today!

Today I will share a tale with you — a tale that still makes me cringe talking about it (but that’s the point of this blog, to share the silly with you all!). Here goes: Recently with all of my online dating nonsense, I received a simple message on the nightmare that is POF and it said, “Happy hour?”

Well damn, it wasn’t the strongest opener but it beat all the lame ones, and if anyone knows me, they now I cannot turn down happy hour. Ever. I think this is how I will start my opening statement when I finally join AA. Since that has not happened yet, though, he and I picked a day for happy hour.  It wound up being after a long day of work and a stupid court case I had to go to, with my douche ex.  Clearly I needed a drink! So we make plans to meet at a mainstream chain restaurant conveniently located on the way to the tanning place I go to on my way home.

As I am sitting at the bar, drinking my Titos with two limes and soda like its my job, the middle aged couple next to me are fighting. Like legit fighting. The nosy neighbor in me is almost staring at them watching. Apparently the wife DID NOT like when her husband took her sausage off her plate.  I respect that because bitches love sausage. I know I do. Then she looks at him with the fury of Satan in her eyes and says, “I have no idea where your hands have been, keep them off my plate!” to which he very kindly responds, “You are fucking nuts!”

This is amazing.  So amazing I almost forget I am still sitting at the bar. Alone. Drinking. That will be the second part to my opening speech I will one day use at AA.

Finally my date arrives.  I wish this is where I could comment on his dapper style but he had gym pants on, a hoodie, tennis shoes and white tube shots. There was no lady boner happening on my end. As I entertain him and our waiter with the drama from next door (at this point Mr. and Mrs. Dirty Hands had left), Jay begins to share with me that he owns a Bail Bond company–which explains why the Hulk looks like his younger, small brother. He tells me that if he gets a work call, he will not leave our date for anything less than $8K. Apparently there is a price on being in my company, and sadly I would’ve thought it was higher than that. Lucky me, as he tries to smooth things over, he tells me that I could join him if he has to bail someone out of jail. “Ummm…no thanks I say!” He tells me, “No, it will be fun! You can be my Beth!”

Pause.

I am sorry, did this first date is sweatpants just turn into a spinoff of Dog the Bounty Hunter?? And there is not even a mullet in this version?!

He doesn’t get any calls, which in retrospect was probably for the best, as I was not about to go spend this date in jail–there are too many opportunities for that story to lead somewhere even stranger!

So we sit there, and there is laughter, but I think his double shot’s of Jame-o on the rocks with a side of Budweiser are what’s helping the situation.

He then share some fascinating things with me. 1) he has two little girls (one happens to be a straight up ginger. Enough said.) 2) he could have got full custody but does not want them all the time cause he likes to go out and drink and also ride his Harley. He also mentions how he is so jazzed I am now ‘his girl’. Bitch please, this is our first date. Then, as he smiles, I see he is missing a front tooth.

God help me.

Next he spends a considerable amount of time trying to get me to go to a bar across town with him where they normally have Latin Hip Hop Night. For those of you who do not know, I am white–like, everything about me is very white. I grew up in the Denver suburbs where everyone is white and if you get a tan you are the minority. I also listen to Classic Rock and Country. I am not even sure what hip hop is! So, I respectfully decline, which leads me into a trap–he says, “Ok, if you are not going to go, we will just stay here and drink more!”

Nope.

When the server comes back I say, “OK! Let’s get the tab and go!”  Now, I do not always condone trickery, however when someone is not getting the hint then I think it is allowed.

As he walks me to my car, he ignores the side hug I try to give and grabs my head to barrel his tongue down my throat. I pull away to break the news that I have to go home, but we will see each other soon. He pouts. This grown ass man, in his jumpsuit and all, pouting.

I finally escape and am driving when something almost causes me to puke in my new car. This happens about .3 seconds after I pull out of the restaurant parking lot, which is when the texts start — he is very mushy and makes it sound as if we will run away together. The comment he makes about creating babies with me did not help the situation.

The texts slow down as the night goes on.  It is amazing how that happens when you stop responding because you ‘fall asleep’.

The next morning I wake up to a text from him that says, “Good morning! How is my beautiful, sexy wonderful girl!?” then after 40 minutes of not responding, cause I fell back asleep (I know, lame of me) I get another one, “Hey baby, you still sleeping?! How did my girl sleep!”

Puke.

I am on the phone with my sister, telling her all of this and she is laughing, telling me how thankful she is for the 11+ years of being happily marriage and that she is less than envious of me. I tell her of Jay’s dream to become bounty hunters and for me to pop out many red headed (I am assuming, here) kids, and also that when someone does not give off the same vibes as you, you do not wake them up with stupid texts in which you claim them as your own.

Later in the day I get a text saying, “Hey there babe! You have been quiet, how are you!?” and after 3, yes that’s right THREE minutes, another one that says, “Hey! Are you there! Did I scare you off?!”

How do you respond to that? Glad you asked. It is something like this, “I am not sure that scared is the right word however this is just a lot from one date.” He said he thought we both wanted a relationship, to which I respond, “Yeah I want a relationship but I am not going to force it. If it happens is happens but I think we are on different pages.”

Cue the string of angry texts. And also advice, that is not how you talk a girl into giving this a try! We did not go out again, in fact I blocked his number and now I live day by day by the books, cause if I don’t I am worried I will get arrested doing something stupid (likely) and have to call him to bail me out.

However if you want to be a pal and be my first call instead of Jay, you just let me know!

With love, J!

Is this even legal?

When there is no other way to respond to a young man except for this…

The Jack Attack Fan Club

As most things in my life I knew this was a bad idea, however instead of making the right decision and moving on, I made the conscious decision to continue.

Let’s rewind a bit. Recently I decided to stop dating, which shocked a lot of people but I did not give up on having sex and shenanigans–I am not crazy!

It had been a couple weeks since I had sex which was beginning to cause me to lose my mind. One week night, I found myself starting a million different conversations online, or with people from my roster.

The Roster: Similar to that of a sporting roster–in which there is a list of names of people on the sports team. In this case it is the list of names of people who I call on when I need to get laid.

On this particular night there was no one I could call on from the bench to assist with my needs, so I turned back to the conversations on various dating sites.  Because I am classy, I looked at this as a way to help out everyone in my world — if I was not going to get laid soon then people would think Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada was a saint compared to how I’d be.

I had a few conversations going, one from Jackson and one from a guy named Matthew. Moments after Matthew texted me his number, as texting is easier than these stupid apps, Action Jackson sent me a message explaining how he was looking for a hook up. Due to my dry spell, it was music to my ears.

He then proceeded to tell me that he was out of town and unable to help me with my needs at that moment, but asked me if I would be interested in a threesome at some point.

Surprisingly this is not something I have ever done, however it is something I have thought about, and doing it with people I have no romantic connection too seems better. Then I asked him if he had someone else in mind and he told me he had a buddy. Clearly my next question, because I am tactful was, “Would you penetrate each other?” and I was relieved when he responded and said no. Next he tells me, “You should find my buddy, he is on here,” and then gave me his screen name.

His buddy was Matthew, who had just sent me his name and number. Are. You. Kidding. Me. I thought.

So my opening text to his friend is, “Want to have a threesome with your friend Jack and I?” because this seemed too odd that they were both on here. However, he was confused by this line.

After some conversation it made more sense to him and he said he would be open to it. Eventually we decide we should hangout, because that is the likely decision to make, while sober, at 1 in the morning.

Because this seemed like a crazy decision and it was too late to un-send the messages, I decided I could not be sober so I smoked a huge bowl, which always makes things better.

As he texted me the whole way to my place, my heart beat faster, which the weed did not help with!  

After he arrived, we chatted, which seemed to be boring AF to me but necessary for a few minutes. It felt like a business arrangement, but that was only until we went to the bedroom. Next thing I know, after getting tangled up in the sheets, as we lay there breathing heavily, all he can talk about is Jack Attack. Now there is a part of me who understood where this is coming from as it was our common bond, however conversation was not what I wanted.

Soon he left which I appreciated as I told him earlier he could only come over if he left after as I was not in the mood to cuddle.

The next time he texted me I told him I was on my period and I have yet to hear anything since. It’s hard to tell if the Fan Club has died or not, but we all know if there is ever more, you will be the first to hear about it!

With Love, J!

 

 

 

 

 

The Hammer of Thor

It is with great pleasure that B and I introduce our very first Feature Friday Blog! This one is brought to you by one of my best friends, Esmeralda! E is currently gallivanting her way through Australia with the English travel mate mentioned below, thanks for sharing your stories from  the other side of the world! As always, with love, BJ! 

 

I did what every cliché, young hippie does and I went to Southeast Asia on a backpacking trip. I started in Vietnam, where someone randomly suggested using Tinder to meet new friends and backpacking buddies. I had no prior experience with Tinder, besides hearing some funny stories from friends. It seemed innocent enough. I knew I would never actually go on a Tinder date. Just grab drinks and talk traveling…right? Right.

On a very uneventful night, I downloaded the app and cluelessly dove head first into the world of Tinder. I was swiping in directions I didn’t even know existed, for people that I was judging solely on their dog photos and number of countries they’d been too. This is when I stumbled upon Thor. He was a German model who had it going on; long blonde hair, 6 foot 4 inches tall, massive biceps, six pack, enjoyed yoga and long walks on the beach. Swipe right. MATCH. We started talking. He says everything I could possibly want to hear from a mysterious stranger. Traveling, love of animals, yoga, hippie shit with a side of partying. We try to meet up several times, throughout multiple countries, but we always seem to miss each other by a day. He invites me to the Philippines for a yoga retreat, which I was highly considering until I met two English blokes—who I later start to travel with (and falling in love with one of them).

About 2 months after meeting Thor on Tinder (at this point, I wasn’t on Tinder because I was interested in the English dude. I had almost completely forgotten about the German model) I ended up in Chiang Mai, Thailand with two of my girlfriends. We were getting ready for a normal night of drinking until we black out, when I received a Facebook message. From Thor.

The self-proclaimed, world’s tiniest bar was just down the road from our hostel. I argued in my head for awhile about meeting him—I was in love with someone else, after all—but decided, there’s nothing wrong with meeting for a drink. This was happening.

I drank my .18 cent beer with sweaty palms as I watched every passerby from my bar stool, which was one of two bar stools in the tiny bar. I hear my name being called from the shadows. It was him. This hulking figure emerged before me, and the only thing that the tequila shots and I knew what to do, was run and jump in his arms.

No regrets. He caught me and said, “I never thought I would see you!” in his German accent. Instant melt. He gave me a ride on the back of his motorbike (I was hanging on tighter than a virgin’s va-jayjay) down to another bar.

We started getting drinks—he was buying them for me and my friends. As we were talking, he had a slick way of flirting with all three of us (not that I cared…again, I was in love with someone else…but drunk enough to address it).

I started giggling and stated, “Oh, wow! You’re a bit of a man whore!” Now, this is where I learned that I had been hanging out with the British for far too long. These are statements that I had become immune to—they were now child’s play—and the rest of the world is apparently still sensitive. Thor? Thor. Did. Not. Like. It. He started getting very anger, pacing around the bar, and yelling German things at me (I’m assuming they weren’t friendly). Again, since I was drunk, this all became even funnier to me. I let him through his tantrum and said, “Come on now, you’re being a bit of a pussy. Let’s just have some fun.” Thor stopped dead in his tracks.

I can say that I felt a little bad, but I mostly found it extremely entertaining. My friends and I carried on drinking through the night and found ourselves at a restaurant getting drunken snacks around 1am. My phone buzzed. Guess who?

I sat there eating my veggie rolls, watching a soccer game I didn’t care about, and—once again—watching every passerby. Sooner than later, the hulking figure emerged from the darkness once again. Thor. I jumped up (genuinely ready to apologize to each other and have a friendship…or he’ll whisk me off my feet, change my mind about being in love. I mean, I could see the bulge in his pants and I was ready to ride that hammer off into this German sunset).

“Say you’re sorry,” he barked at me as we approached each other.
“…Um…excuse me, what?”
“You’re wrong, now say you’re sorry so we can be together and make love.”
(I think I was supposed to get wet at this point, but it wasn’t quite working). “What? No. We both need to apologize. You were acting like a child.”
“You can’t say those…those THINGS to people!”
I started laughing,

“—WHAT?!” I had done it. I had angered all nine realms of the Marvel comics in one sentence, with one word. Now I watched him get more and more agitated within about 5 seconds.

He danced on his feet as if he didn’t know whether to stay or run away. He was snorting fire out of his nose and holding his mouth as if he had no teeth—lips folding inwards. I was just…standing there. Watching this. I had never seen a grow man act so…pussy-like. But I had learned to keep my mouth shut around this boy, so I didn’t say it. As he tap danced in front of me he finally mustered up the courage to speak (…kinda).

“You…you…you!”
And then he did it.

He hesitantly reached his arm up—several times—while still dancing. He opened and closed his fist. He took one step away from me, ready to run away, before extending his arm up to my face, hand opened wide, and bitch slapped me on my right cheek.

He took off like a bullet into the darkness, probably entering another world while riding his hammer. I remained standing, with my arms crossed, in total disbelief. My two girlfriends who had been watching this whole fiasco, busted out laughing. He was an instant delete on Facebook, and our next round of shots was, “To Thor!”

With Love, Esmeralda!

Happily Ever After

There is grass stuck to my face when I wake up in the middle of the night to the room spinning. As I get up, in the guest room at my parents, I try and find my way to the bathroom, as I step in my dress, that is soaking wet with grass and sticks stuck to it. For an instant I think, “What the fuck happened?!” and then I remember.

It started with me going to meet my mom and dad so we could be carpool buddies and mom could be the DD. The first thing I do when I get to my parents is go outside and smoke a bowl. I use to be sneaky about it however at 29, in Colorado, I without shame tell my mom I am going outside to hit my pipe. She rolls her eyes and I think, “at least I am going outside! Adulting at its finest!” 

The wedding is short and sweet which is great, leaves more time to run to the car and smoke some weed then meet my dad in line for the bar where he could get me a drink then we head out to the patio. As we sit with my parent’s friends, their friend Catherine and I go drink for drink and decide we should be each other’s dates since I did not have one and hers, her brother, was not yet there.

The night is full of laughter, a photo booth, and even standing at the top of the stairs with another one of my parent’s friends, Deborah, trying to fling cards down into the card box. Later on, my mom, Deborah, Catherine and I sneak outside for a break. That’s when we met Adam. A cute bartender who was apparently working the wedding there. We talked him into smoking some weed with us (well Deborah and myself) and taking fireball shots with Catherine and I. After that he promised us free drinks so Catherine and I went to the bar, where I gave Adam my phone number and then when we returned to the rest of out group with our drinks, we were happily greeted by one more drink each awaiting us at the table as well.

Later on we were at the photo booth when I invited Adam to join us how romantic, our first photo together. The tales we can tell our kids, right? I must have been hammered.

To follow this, before the grass got pressed in my hair, I find myself dancing, dancing and, well, dancing. This was when Catherine and I stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, and ran into Adam again. As he was talking to Catherine and I, I look at him and mouth (As Catherine is talking) “Let’s go fuck.”

Before I know it we are walking along the golf course, and find ourselves on the driving range, making out. Before I know it, we are rolling around in the grass, that must have been recently watered, as I am soaking wet, in more ways than one. These shenanigans last for at least an hour and then I finally hear my phone ringing and say, “I know this is awkward, but my mom is calling me, so we need to finish!”

 After we are done, as he is getting dressed I text my mom and tell her I was laying in the grass outside, which will explain the soaking wet dress, as well as the matted down sex hair full or twigs and grass. I don’t even kiss this guy goodbye before I am running around to the front of the building and run into my mom. She laughs at me and asked where I was, that she was looking for me. I say I lost trach of time and was laying in the grass, you know, pass it off on the drinking and weed.

On the way home I get my mom to stop at McDonalds. Despite the fact that I do not eat fast food, or drink soda, there is nothing like French fries, sausage egg McMuffin and a coke. By the time we make it back to their house the food is gone, and I am ready for bed. As I change into my jammies I have grass stuck all over my body and wipe it all over the floor of the guest bedroom.

When I woke up sore the next day, I thought about why I do not date anyone under 30, which seems like something I should reconsider as the stamina from a man in there mid 20’s is far more superior then someone even a decade older than them. What a life choice I am left with, again, this is Adulting at its finest.

With Love, J!

Best Work Environment Ever

Does your boss not read your blog about dating disasters and sexual exploits? No? Huh…weird.