The White Rapper

I met the white rapper at a bar. You will see in many of these blogs, I meet the guys at bars or online…and I wonder why I’m writing this book instead of living happily ever after. But the truth is, where do meet people? Anyways, I met him right after I had my heart broken for the first time. (Yes, first time. I made it to 30 before ever having my heart broken…I used to be the breaker. What the heck happened? I have obviously lost my touch!)

Point is, the White Rapper was cute, and he gave me confidence that maybe life would go on…maybe! Of course, at the time, I didn’t realize what the options were like out there. But it was fun…it was fun to flirt for the first time in a couple years. It was fun to get that initial rush of crushness!

So we talked and flirted…and he asked for my number. ..Umm…heck yes, you can have it!

He called a couple days later, and we went to lunch. We covered the typical first date stuff… likes, dislikes, etc. I asked him what he does for work and what type of music he listened to. He said he was in the midst of building an Internet based business, and that he mostly listens to country. Now, for some reason, I love it when guys listen to country… I personally am not a huge fan of it…but I have assumptions about guys that are. I picture them being good ole cowboys, that love their trucks and their mamas…and aren’t afraid of hard work, or taking care of their lady. I mean, who wouldn’t want that?

I left the date feeling pretty good. I met a cute cowboy that dressed like a soccer player, and had a sense of humor and some motivation. (And when I say soccer player, I mean off field…you know, jeans, t-shirt, and pumas. Totally soccer.)

But, more importantly, I left the date with the essential tools to check him out…his last name.

As I’m sure many of you know, there are fantastic websites out there to search all of the dirt on whoever you want dirt on. Because I meet men online and at bars, I find it crucial to determine if they have a criminal record. Although the law doesn’t record their porn addictions or hive fiving obsessions, at least you know they haven’t killed someone…and been caught. So you have at least a 50/50 chance they haven’t actually killed someone. (By the way, the 50/50 thing is not backed up by any data…I’m guessing… It’s probably only a 77% chance they didn’t kill… right?... Hopefully)

So I searched the dirt on him. He had no criminal record, owned a computer business (looking good so far), and had a MySpace page…that was not set to private. So I, My-stalked.

On his page, there were videos. So I obviously started to watch. It was someone rapping, and they were pretty good. Who is it? A friend? Is he promoting someone? And then, it happened… a close up, and…It was him! He is a rapper! A White Rapper! Like Eminem!

A rapper? He didn't even mention rap as a music interest. I can honestly say, i didn't see this coming.

Anyways, we went on a few dates. And I kept waiting, and waiting…nothing. He hadn’t said a word about it. As far as he knew, I just thought he liked country... and soccer.

And then, finally, the day came… The day of Confession. He came over to watch a movie, this is when he admitted that he raps. I said “oh really, like Eminem or something?” (I couldn’t let him know I already knew his public record and had seen his videos.) I was trying to play it cool! I asked him about groupies, where he raps, how often, etc. He said it is mostly in the past. That it was time to grow up. PHEW!!!!

So we start kissing. Not because he raps..I don’t just go around kissing rappers… which, actually, I can’t say that for sure… This is the first and only rapper I have had an opportunity to kiss. So maybe, it is my thing.

So, as I am kissing the White Rapper, I can tell he is getting a bit too into it. I tell him about my strict pants on rule. He doesn’t seem thrilled. He says “well what am I supposed to do? Aren’t you going to at least give me a hand job to take care of this?” really? A hand job? This doesn’t happen often…but I was speechless. I don’t think I have ever been asked for a hand job...  These rappers move fast. Kissing to hand jobs in 60 seconds flat. Now, I know the standard date rule... 3 dates to sex...so you may be thinking I am a bit prude, seeing as I was put off by a hand job request, but so be it. Like I said, I have a strict Pants On Rule.


So, after my momentary brain lapse (from the shock value), I pointed to my bathroom, and told him he was welcome to give himself a hand job.

Needless to say…the rest of the movie was a bit awkward.

Ugh, Dating!

Green Eyes

I have so many dating stories...over so many years! This really has been a near 13 year challenge. Unfortunately, this blog was not conceived until this year...so there are so many details I cant remember. So, because of this memory lapse, I will include some short stories. Stories, that have one outstanding moment.
Lets start with Green Eyes.

All I remember about him is that he was barely taller than me and had a gap in his front teeth (which surprisingly enough, didn't bother me at all. surprising, because I come from five generations of dentists).

On our first date...he told me that I had the most beautiful green eyes. He said it made him think of a Cold Play song. I had never heard of the song. He insisted I come listen to the song in his car. I refused to get in his car, I mean he could be a serial killer for all I know, so I just stood a couple of feet away. It was slightly awkward to say the least.

(Now, boys, if you are reading this... Compliments are wonderful! Romance is wonderful. All of these things are greatly appreciated, as long as there is not a fear of kidnapping involved. So compliment, and then stop! You can play songs down the road when she is willing to be in an enclosed vehicle with you.)

So, we parted ways.... that first date, was our only date. but...I still love that song.

Birkenstocks

I hate to seem cold hearted and shallow, but if you show up to a first and second date wearing Birkenstocks…well, you just can’t be in shock that you’re single…. And no, if you are wondering, I do NOT wear Birkenstocks. I personally have more picky, crazy, needy, commitment problems…therefore I dress really nice, so as not to add to the list. ;)

But really? Birkenstocks? Who still wears them?  I don’t think you could find anything more apt to show your lack of care in your appearance. I take that back…slippers could work better. Maybe I will call “Birkenstocks” and tell him he has more options to Un-impress!

Our first date, we met at a brewery on a Sunday. Great beer and appetizers will help any hopeless case. And as you will probably start to notice, I give almost anyone the benefit of the doubt on the first date…especially if I can stand to look at you. (Sorry, I’m a bit harsh today).  

We talked about his lack of excitement for his job and the fact that he really wanted to be a History Professor….but he wasn’t doing anything to accomplish that dream. When you’re 38 years old, you need to make a decision and start working towards that decision.  It seemed as if he just didn’t want to grow up and make adult decisions. And I am too old to deal with that!

He apologized for his wardrobe, explaining that he was moving things from his parent’s house (38 years old, and still moving in and out of his parent’s house…should have been my first clue!). He was wearing cargo shorts, a Muppet T-shirt (should have been my second clue), and those beautiful, “I’m still stuck in the college years” Birkenstocks. I let it slide…

Until our second date…

We met on Friday night at a trendy bar. He wore Cargo shorts, Birkenstocks, and (prepare yourself for the major effort to dress up) a button down, white collared shirt. (yes, I know what you’re thinking…”he really wore Birkenstocks to a bar on a Friday night?”). 

It made me want to leave, go to the mall, buy a pair of Birkenstocks (do they even still sell them anywhere?) and burn them!!!! Maybe if I start making money from this blog, I will buy all the Birkenstocks I can find…and burn them all. I think this could be considered a charitable deed. Could that qualify as a write off?

Anyways, back to the date… We walked around to check out the bar, or, actually he walked super speedy in front of me and I tried, in my 5 inch wedges, to keep up.  Those Birkenstocks can move!!!

He called out to someone to say hello…apparently this was one of the owners. Did I mention he did this on the first date also? I get it…you know people! NOT IMPRESSED! He never introduced me and just chatted to this guy about his kids and life and spent the next five minutes leaving me standing there awkward.

Thank god, I had an appointment in the morning and had the perfect excuse to leave early.  Which I did....and have not looked back! well...not until this blog.

Now, I would just like to point out that if he had a sparkling personality, had a clue about how to treat a lady, or even a tad of ambition, I would have overlooked the Birkenstocks.  I mean, my future husband wore 80s style mom jeans for men and hiking boots…so really it’s the guy, not the shoes! And ladies, the truth is, their clothing is the one thing you can change!

Ugh, Dating!

Let's get this started!

From the beginning….

I have to apologize because I don’t feel I started this out appropriately.  I had a bit of an emotional rant, which is bound to happen when you get dissed by your Future Husband.

So, anyways...

Where do I even begin…. I don’t consider myself much of a writer, so I guess I can start by telling you why I am writing this in the first place. Peer pressure… that’s why! (blogging- it’s like the new smoking).

 My friends still laugh uncontrollably when they think of my dating life. Their favorite is a guy we all refer to as “The Spitter”. (I will share this story down the road…I need a big audience for that embarrassment….hint hint… gather me some followers)

The Spitter, regardless of the humiliation it brings me, is brought up at most gatherings. So they have pressured me to share this story, as well as many others.

 Through out this blog, I will refer to the different experiences, old & new, by the title my friends and I remember them as, The Spitter, The high fiver, My Future Husband, etc. I also have referred to them this way to protect their identities. Ok….not really, I don’t really care to protect them…this is for me, I am doing it to protect me…from getting sued.

 I would like to mention, this is not a blog about my sex life, in fact the majority of these stories never made it passed the first or second dates (and I have a strict "pants on" rule). This is also not meant to bash men…. I don’t hate men. And I do believe there are really great guys out there. I just think everyone has those moments where they don’t really shine (me included…which I probably don’t need to point out) and well, I just happen to really bring out those 'not so shiny' moments in people.

 I hope this blog will bring laughs, even if they are at my expense…I think quite a few of them will be. I also hope that if you are single and going through the ringer, like I am, that it will give you confidence that you are not the only one.

 It is not just you!

 So with that said… Ugh, Dating!

UPDATE: OK, so there really is no update…  my future husband still has not called. I am pretty sure he is stuck in a hospital somewhere with broken fingers (injured…but not severe). Or maybe, he is on a super secret mission to save the planet from aliens. (this is probably what happened…he seemed very brave!) so, readers….you are welcome. I have sacrificed phone calls and dates for your lives… see how much I care about you!!!! (now,  go find more people for me to care about ;)

My Future Husband

So, the problem with telling everyone that you met your future husband is that when he hasn’t called in 3 days, people are always there to ask how it’s going… and all you can say is that you were wrong. Your gut feeling was apparently just your actively decaying uterus masquerading as your gut, telling you that this is the one…in hopes that something/ someone will work, at least long enough to get a baby out of it. This is where my uterus and I disagree. I don’t want just a baby, I want the whole package (and guys, if you are actually reading this…when I say package, I am not talking about your tickle pickle...so get your mind out of the gutter).

Part of my problem, is that I show my true self from the beginning, and I assume (I know, ass out of ‘U’ and ‘me’) that everyone else does too. So when a guy presents themselves as a good person, I believe them. But I have to say, it seems few guys even care to make the effort to pretend in the beginning. Most of them know they can get away with being an ass. Many girls go for that, but not me. I have never been the one to go for the jerk. I always fall for the guy that seems like a genuinely nice person….and then when I have already fallen for them, their true colors come out.

Now don’t get me wrong…I don’t know if my future husband is a bad guy, or if he is just not in the right place, or if it’s his job, or if I am just not the girl. And maybe, I should take a little accountability. Maybe, I just keep dating the guys that are sort of in to me… not totally in to me. And maybe, I should stop calling him my future husband….especially to his face.

So, I guess it is time to move on… we have only been on 3 dates, and I am already getting divorced. They weren’t kidding, divorce really is prevalent.

Now, I know what you’re thinking… “It’s only been 3 dates, and she is freaking out about not getting a phone call for 3 days”. And to answer your question, Yes, I am freaking out about it! I know right away if I like someone, it’s black or white, yes or no.  If, I am a ‘yes’ for him too… then how could he possible go for 3 days without hearing my glorious voice and my sometimes, almost funny stories? I am just not a good dater. I don’t know how to play the game.

But here it goes again….

So, anyways, welcome to my blog.

 I have been intending (by request of friends and family) to start this blog and begin sharing the terribly tragic and entertaining dates I have been on, for quite some time. And now, here it is 3am in the morning, and I am suddenly wide awake, filled with thoughts…and decided to share them.

Ugh, dating!