I can probably get to 20 dates without really even thinking about it......OMG!
This date is a little bit sad rather than funny, but I have been holding it inside for quite some time and it is time to let it go.
3.5 years ago (OMG....I have been struggling with my weight this last time for over 3 years....REALITY CHECK!) I was feeling REALLY good about myself and my body.
I had fallen in love with Spinning class, my gym in general, and eating healthy. I also hadn't started dating Awful yet. I was living alone, dating casually (for fun, not marriage) and enjoying my own company. I look back on these years fondly.
I was on Match.com and Jdate (Jewish dating site) at the same time and was going out with pretty much anyone that caught my attention....I hadn't made my list yet, so I thought I knew what I wanted, but for real, I had NO idea.
One day, I received an email from a very handsome man on Jdate. He seemed okay, his profile was a bit bare, but he was educated and I related to the TV shows and books he listed as favorites. He grew up in the same area as me in the Midwest. We had some things in common. We emailed a few times formally, had a quick phone conversation, and then decided to meet at a local sushi joint for dinner in a few days.
I dressed nicely for the date - dark jeans, a blouse tucked in, and a fitted blazer. I wore flats as I am tall and height seems to be the first thing men lie about most when online dating. I felt VERY good about myself, VERY attractive. I was a few pounds less than the weight I hope to be again (158). I was skinny for me and I had a swagger. I felt myself being checked out while I walked the few blocks from my apartment to the restaurant.
I showed up at the restaurant right on time and waited for my date. He texted and said he would be a few minutes late. 25 minutes later he arrived without an apology for his tardiness. He walked right past me almost deliberately.... I was a bit confused and my heart started beating really fast, I felt that something was up and this wasn't going to end well.
This feeling, this butterfly flutter in my chest that I get from time to time....when I get it now, I just leave, no excuses, but I didn't know myself then like I do now. Fight or flight.
I tapped him and said, "are you Ben?" to which he replied, "who are you?"
I looked around very confused...."ummmm, I am Ready and Fading, you are Ben, right? If not, sorry, I must be confused, you look like someone I was planning to meet...."
He then looked me up and down slowly and as I felt his eyes burning through my body, he said this:
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize how tall you are...."
(SIDE NOTE: He was at least 4 inches taller than me and I listed my height, no exaggerations, 5' 10", on my profile and even called it out as a warning in my "about me section" as men in my city seem to NOT enjoy a statuesque woman and I have been called a man more times than I can count when I used to wear high high heels to bars)...
He continued....
"I just find you to be really manly and unattractive (I have curves for days and I am soft and feminine with long hair and I LOVE makeup and smelling sweet), so if you want to eat something, we can go dutch on the bill, but I don't have any romantic connection to you at all, I find you the opposite of what I like."
Mind you, I had yet to say a word, remove my blazer, and I had just recently updated my profile less than a month before....everything was current. I looked JUST like my profile photo.
So, I did the only thing I knew to do....I looked him in the eye and said....
"You will never be happy. This isn't the way you handle this situation regardless of attraction. You are a mean bitter man. Go FUCK yourself. I hope you find a petite lady that you can treat like shit. I pray for her. Bye."
And I walked out the door. I then went home and ate my feelings. I consider this date as the initial trigger for my rapid weight gain during this phase of my life. I know it seems weak, but I had tried SO hard and I had felt SO good and then the kind of guy I thought I wanted.....SO NOT WHAT I KNOW IS RIGHT FOR ME NOW.....treated me like I was 1,000 pounds. It was such a slap in my face and I let him, this stranger asshole, win.
He was the grown-up version of the 7th grade boys who chanted Ogre at me on the playground....it triggered every issue with my body, my weight, and my fear of men, that I ever had.
A few days later, I received an email from him apologizing for his behavior and asking me for a second chance. I think it's pretty possible that he tried to use the "Mystery Method" on me which revolves around insulting and demeaning women to get power over the date and situation. I didn't fall for it and I think my reaction surprised him. I actually invited him into my insecurity by calling myself out for being tall on my profile. He preyed on my weaknesses (one of the base rules of the Mystery Method is to call a girl out on something based on looks whether it applies to her or not to disarm her).
When I went back online after Awful, I listed my height, but never called it out and it became a non-issue on all of the recent dates before Crush that I went on...this is why I NEVER complain about my weight, diet, height, stretch marks, scar, or cellulite with Crush. Confidence is sexy and sometimes you have to fake it to make it. Never let a man know too much about these things, good ones don't see them, so that is your first test. When they bring up your "cheesy thighs" like Awful did to me, pack your bag and leave...and don't take 2.5 years to do so like I did!
I never emailed Ben back, but I did once see him out at a birthday party for a friend of a friend and he came up to me to awkwardly apologize again. I turned my back on him mid-sentence and now that I think about it, I should have asked him why he did it, but I didn't.....I was too scared to get hurt all over again.....as strong as I was trying to be, I was still pretty weak....
I started dating Awful 2 weeks later. I thought because he was short and divorced and had dealt with his own body issues that he couldn't hurt me....EPIC FAIL.
Showing posts with label Bad Dates. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bad Dates. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Mortifying Date Story #2
I took a 6 month break from dating after I broke up with Awful.
Emotionally, I simply wasn't ready and he had already won the race in who was going to get laid first. He had sex with someone 1 week after we officially broke up (it was crushing at the time, especially because an old neighbor acquaintance was the one who broke the news to me......OY...he also most likely cheated on me, but that is another story for another day). This fact in itself made me extra motivated to not do as he did and just find a warm body (though I did one time last April post breakup and it was not all that it should have been......) to validate myself with. I started my dating search seeking a boyfriend and yearning for a real connection. Sadly, I never found one in my city.......BUT, I did find Crush, so I did do something very very right eventually!
Last spring, it was time to get back in the dating game. Yes, I was still post breakup fluffy (chubby). Yes, I was still feeling really fragile (like an egg). Yes, I was still living with my parents at 30 (still am, WHOOOOT!)........but, I needed to at least try to connect with someone.
I had a little free time as everyone I knew was about to have a baby or just had a baby, so besides complaining, crying, or eating.....there was no excuse to not date. Up went the OK Cupid dating profile and the selection process began.
As I posted a few days ago, I was VERY specific about what I was looking for. For me, I wanted someone who wanted to get married, had a job, and was the same religion as me (Jewish) if possible. The religion thing was really my first priority at the time as Awful wasn't the same religion and for us (I can only talk from my personal experience with this here and for us the religious differences became a disaster, but most of it was because Awful is a sayer not a doer by nature), it caused MANY problems. It wasn't a ton of hard qualifications, but I was specific, I only received 2 emails from suitors. I went out with both. One wasn't bad, just no connection, so he doesn't get a post.....but #2....OH MY..........
#2 emailed me asking if I wanted to get coffee sometime and I agreed. He seemed nice and articulate and had a lovely smile and eyes. He had a job and took the time to fill out his profile. I did see one red flag though, but I chose to ignore it as I was desperate for a date and male approval. The red flag was that he described himself as sarcastic. Now, I am TOTALLY sarcastic and I own it, but I don't advertise it as I feel the word sarcastic is very much like the word beautiful....it is really in the eye of the beholder. In the city I live in, sarcastic when pertaining to a man often means one thing and one thing only....ASSHOLE. But, I was still single at the time, so what did I know? This man could have been the sweetest sarcastic gem on the planet, so why be so close-minded...?
Mr. Sarcastic and I planned to meet at a local tea shop at 1:00 pm. At 1:35 pm he arrived in sweat pants, sneakers, an old college sweatshirt, with sleep (eye boogers) still crusted on his eyelids. He smelled like smoke, whiskey, bad breath, and fried food. I was still giving him the benefit of the doubt at this point. I just wanted some company. I asked him if he had a fun night out to which he replied:
"Yes, I had sex with a hooker."
To this day, I am still not sure whether to believe him or not.
He went ahead and ordered himself a beverage and did not offer me one. I then got myself one. He said that he will pay for things on a date only after he has slept with his company and at that point he would spend a varied amount of money based on how good the sex was....
WHY DIDN'T I LEAVE THEN?
So, to make things even more awkward, the tea shop he chose was less than 2 blocks away from where Awful lived (in a rather popular and upscale part of the city I live in), so I was in constant fear that he was going to walk in on this horrendous situation, so I was acting like a robot and not focusing on the true direness of the situation.
After Mister Sarcastic slurped his chai latte and spilled on himself, he asked me to join him for some ice cream around the corner. I went as I looked at the time and we were still at less than 10 minutes total for the date.
He got himself a giant waffle cone of rainbow sherbet and of course didn't offer me anything and while he ate like a wild pig, he spoke about himself for 10 minutes straight like this:
"I am the best catch ever. I am rich. I am tall. I am handsome. I am educated. I am well endowed. I have women begging for me. I had to dump my ex because she loved me too much. I was too funny for her. I was too alive. I am larger than life. I am a rare gift. I am more than anyone would ever want or need. I am funny. I am stable. I am gifted....blah blah blah blah blah....."
Upon the 11th minute of this rant, a 16 year old girl with braces, a small dog, wearing teeny jean shorts and a cut off sweat shirt top comes and sits down at our table and calls my date "Dad."
To this day, I am still not sure if this was his daughter or girlfriend....a part of me thinks that she joins him "on dates" as a cover.
He then says to the teen....
"I AM NOT YOUR FATHER!!!!!! and they both laugh and hug and she begins licking his ice cream cone (the one he bought, not the one in his pants).
We have been on our date for 25 minutes. He hasn't asked me 1 question and I am so utterly confused.......we are now all of a sudden babysitting a teen......I am fascinated too, just waiting to be "Punked". I just can't get up and leave quite yet, I just can't, even though I really want to. It is like a car accident. I have daters gape.
He then begins telling me about his sarcasm:
"I am sarcastic. It suits me well. I could be a comedian (as someone who once dabbled in comedy, NO YOU COULDN'T) and people always tell me that I should have been, if I wasn't a lawyer. I just don't have the time to be the next Seinfeld even though I am funnier, better, and almost as rich as him. I just want you to know, that if I decide to sleep with you, you will need to be able to handle my sarcasm. It is essential for the function of our relationship. What are your thoughts on this?"
The was the first time in the last 30 minutes that I had been offered a chance to speak, so I did:
"Well, since you asked....I think you are a horrible date and disgusting. I would never sleep with you. You smell, you are wearing ill-fitting sweatpants, you are cheap, rude, disrespectful to women, and completely in denial of who you really are as a person. You have this weird ego which results in the fact that you have no penis in you pjs. You are likely a pedophile and are trying to have a date with a junior in high school at the same time as me. You are single because you are crazy. This is very clear to me. The only issue I am currently having with this date is the fact that I am still on it. I wasted 32 minutes of my life with you and I can never get that back. Bye. Also, sarcastic is not what you are, you are an asshole. Also, you are so unfunny, it hurts. If this is some improv skit, then I appreciate it, but I don't think it is. The only way to make this moderately okay would be for a camera and crew to pop out. I am going to now wait for the camera and crew as I can take a joke. (I waited about a minute, no camera, no crew). Okay, you are not an actor, you are just insane. Bye now for real."
And then I got up and left.
I heard a yell from behind me....
"SO YOU DON'T WANT TO MAKE OUT?????? You are actually hot! Lose 20 pounds and call me!"
I promptly burst into tears and ran to my car.
Emotionally, I simply wasn't ready and he had already won the race in who was going to get laid first. He had sex with someone 1 week after we officially broke up (it was crushing at the time, especially because an old neighbor acquaintance was the one who broke the news to me......OY...he also most likely cheated on me, but that is another story for another day). This fact in itself made me extra motivated to not do as he did and just find a warm body (though I did one time last April post breakup and it was not all that it should have been......) to validate myself with. I started my dating search seeking a boyfriend and yearning for a real connection. Sadly, I never found one in my city.......BUT, I did find Crush, so I did do something very very right eventually!
Last spring, it was time to get back in the dating game. Yes, I was still post breakup fluffy (chubby). Yes, I was still feeling really fragile (like an egg). Yes, I was still living with my parents at 30 (still am, WHOOOOT!)........but, I needed to at least try to connect with someone.
I had a little free time as everyone I knew was about to have a baby or just had a baby, so besides complaining, crying, or eating.....there was no excuse to not date. Up went the OK Cupid dating profile and the selection process began.
As I posted a few days ago, I was VERY specific about what I was looking for. For me, I wanted someone who wanted to get married, had a job, and was the same religion as me (Jewish) if possible. The religion thing was really my first priority at the time as Awful wasn't the same religion and for us (I can only talk from my personal experience with this here and for us the religious differences became a disaster, but most of it was because Awful is a sayer not a doer by nature), it caused MANY problems. It wasn't a ton of hard qualifications, but I was specific, I only received 2 emails from suitors. I went out with both. One wasn't bad, just no connection, so he doesn't get a post.....but #2....OH MY..........
#2 emailed me asking if I wanted to get coffee sometime and I agreed. He seemed nice and articulate and had a lovely smile and eyes. He had a job and took the time to fill out his profile. I did see one red flag though, but I chose to ignore it as I was desperate for a date and male approval. The red flag was that he described himself as sarcastic. Now, I am TOTALLY sarcastic and I own it, but I don't advertise it as I feel the word sarcastic is very much like the word beautiful....it is really in the eye of the beholder. In the city I live in, sarcastic when pertaining to a man often means one thing and one thing only....ASSHOLE. But, I was still single at the time, so what did I know? This man could have been the sweetest sarcastic gem on the planet, so why be so close-minded...?
Mr. Sarcastic and I planned to meet at a local tea shop at 1:00 pm. At 1:35 pm he arrived in sweat pants, sneakers, an old college sweatshirt, with sleep (eye boogers) still crusted on his eyelids. He smelled like smoke, whiskey, bad breath, and fried food. I was still giving him the benefit of the doubt at this point. I just wanted some company. I asked him if he had a fun night out to which he replied:
"Yes, I had sex with a hooker."
To this day, I am still not sure whether to believe him or not.
He went ahead and ordered himself a beverage and did not offer me one. I then got myself one. He said that he will pay for things on a date only after he has slept with his company and at that point he would spend a varied amount of money based on how good the sex was....
WHY DIDN'T I LEAVE THEN?
So, to make things even more awkward, the tea shop he chose was less than 2 blocks away from where Awful lived (in a rather popular and upscale part of the city I live in), so I was in constant fear that he was going to walk in on this horrendous situation, so I was acting like a robot and not focusing on the true direness of the situation.
After Mister Sarcastic slurped his chai latte and spilled on himself, he asked me to join him for some ice cream around the corner. I went as I looked at the time and we were still at less than 10 minutes total for the date.
He got himself a giant waffle cone of rainbow sherbet and of course didn't offer me anything and while he ate like a wild pig, he spoke about himself for 10 minutes straight like this:
"I am the best catch ever. I am rich. I am tall. I am handsome. I am educated. I am well endowed. I have women begging for me. I had to dump my ex because she loved me too much. I was too funny for her. I was too alive. I am larger than life. I am a rare gift. I am more than anyone would ever want or need. I am funny. I am stable. I am gifted....blah blah blah blah blah....."
Upon the 11th minute of this rant, a 16 year old girl with braces, a small dog, wearing teeny jean shorts and a cut off sweat shirt top comes and sits down at our table and calls my date "Dad."
To this day, I am still not sure if this was his daughter or girlfriend....a part of me thinks that she joins him "on dates" as a cover.
He then says to the teen....
"I AM NOT YOUR FATHER!!!!!! and they both laugh and hug and she begins licking his ice cream cone (the one he bought, not the one in his pants).
We have been on our date for 25 minutes. He hasn't asked me 1 question and I am so utterly confused.......we are now all of a sudden babysitting a teen......I am fascinated too, just waiting to be "Punked". I just can't get up and leave quite yet, I just can't, even though I really want to. It is like a car accident. I have daters gape.
He then begins telling me about his sarcasm:
"I am sarcastic. It suits me well. I could be a comedian (as someone who once dabbled in comedy, NO YOU COULDN'T) and people always tell me that I should have been, if I wasn't a lawyer. I just don't have the time to be the next Seinfeld even though I am funnier, better, and almost as rich as him. I just want you to know, that if I decide to sleep with you, you will need to be able to handle my sarcasm. It is essential for the function of our relationship. What are your thoughts on this?"
The was the first time in the last 30 minutes that I had been offered a chance to speak, so I did:
"Well, since you asked....I think you are a horrible date and disgusting. I would never sleep with you. You smell, you are wearing ill-fitting sweatpants, you are cheap, rude, disrespectful to women, and completely in denial of who you really are as a person. You have this weird ego which results in the fact that you have no penis in you pjs. You are likely a pedophile and are trying to have a date with a junior in high school at the same time as me. You are single because you are crazy. This is very clear to me. The only issue I am currently having with this date is the fact that I am still on it. I wasted 32 minutes of my life with you and I can never get that back. Bye. Also, sarcastic is not what you are, you are an asshole. Also, you are so unfunny, it hurts. If this is some improv skit, then I appreciate it, but I don't think it is. The only way to make this moderately okay would be for a camera and crew to pop out. I am going to now wait for the camera and crew as I can take a joke. (I waited about a minute, no camera, no crew). Okay, you are not an actor, you are just insane. Bye now for real."
And then I got up and left.
I heard a yell from behind me....
"SO YOU DON'T WANT TO MAKE OUT?????? You are actually hot! Lose 20 pounds and call me!"
I promptly burst into tears and ran to my car.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
My Online Dating Post Got Me Thinking....Time for a Mortifying Date Story
I may be all smug and in love, but it took me MANY dates to get here. EMBARRASSMENT, INSULTS, HEARTBREAK, and SHAME were the theme of my dating life in my 20's. It was so bad, yet it was also absolutely hilarious in hindsight. I am going to begin to share some of these horror stories starting with a real gem (one of my bffs refers to this instance all too often) when I went out with a carpet salesman on a date in college.......
Once upon a time, I loved my booze. I loved it strong, straight, and in large quantities. This time was not limited to college unfortunately, but some of my best stories did occur between the years of '99-'04 (that's right, I LOVED college so much, it took me 5 years)....
The booze made me do silly things.....dye my hair blond, go out in jean mini-skirts without underwear, make out with people I hated sober, and eat only asparagus and broccoli and Diet Dr. Pepper. It also made me think that accepting a date with Persian rug salesman 17 years my senior was a normal and fully reasonable idea.
I remember going out one night with my blond hair and no panties and meeting a man. It happened a lot and often when I woke up, all I could recall was that the person I met was alive. When this particular man called me the next day to take me to dinner, I was really excited. I lived in this fantasy land where I thought that acting like a bloated, crazy, drunk, messy buffoon would help me land a soul mate. I believed that tequila and vodka made me a better person, not a human hurricane, so I drank insane amounts of it and walked around town in a drunk haze and imagined myself some music video vixen....OY.
I was VERY disappointed when my future husband to be showed up to pick me up for the big date, mind you, the very next day after meeting him (I didn't know ANYTHING about not accepting a date on such late notice, I hadn't read The Rules yet). In less than 24 hours since I met him, he became everything I wasn't looking for: unattractive, super thin, smelly, pimply, missing teeth, he drove a car that had plastic wrap windows, he didn't speak English well, and he only wanted one thing and one thing only....MY vagina. This was bad, very very bad.
I made him take me to an expensive restaurant because obviously being the fine lady I was, I deserved to be treated wonderfully, like a princess. I knew there was only one way for us to bond, for us to find that magic that we shared the night before, for us to be able to stand each other's presence and that was for me to get very VERY drunk.....and I did.
Several martinis later, he looked just like I remembered, blurry. Like a Picasso. He was no longer a carpet salesman, but a man with major potential who specialized in interior concept and design. The vodka was pulsating through my core and begging for this man to love and adore me, so I did what I did best (and why I most likely always seemed to attract men with limited understanding of the English language because they were the only ones that could tolerate me....), I bragged about myself.
I started with my beautiful "natural" blond hair and continued to my straight teeth (I had braces for 4 years). Moving downwards, I bragged about how I didn't need a bra because my breasts defied gravity (they were quite small at this time, so a bra wasn't super necessary) and how my (recently thinner, but still rolly) tummy was a perfect shade of bronze from maximum tanning bed and sun exposure. When I felt he was hanging on my every word (most likely trying to piece together my sentiments because of his limited grasp of English and my excessive slurring), I moved in for the absolute kill......
My legs.
Now, I will say, everyone has a good feature and mine are my calves. Yes, they are attached to rather chunky and cellulite induced thighs, but they shapely and firm and were even better when I was 20 as I was tan, with less mass, and tons of muscle saved up from playing sports since I was a teeny girl. They were something to be proud of for me, especially for how little effort I was putting them through at that time in my life (perhaps stumbling is a better workout than you would think....)....I literally had a 15 minute rave session about my own two limbs and then ate my supper, sobered up a bit and begged to be taken home as I was feeling like I had to vomit (regular occurrence in college, not puking up food, puking up booze).......and he was looking less like abstract art and more like the carpet salesman that picked me up 2 hours earlier.
When I got home, to my HORROR, I learned my roommate and a very best friend to this day heard all about my legs...........HOW? Was she dining at the restaurant? Spying on me through the window? Working in the kitchen?
NOOOOOOOOOOO.....
I had pursed dialed her from my date in my drunken stupor and she listened in on the hysteria in detail. She caught the ENTIRE leg conversation......
I couldn't look at myself for days, I was so embarrassed.
To this day, she will not let me forget it. In the past whenever I would go out on a first date (even my first date with Crush) she would always ask...."did you tell him about your legs?"
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
I almost peed in my Spanx, the first time I dressed up to attend a party with Crush and while I was getting into the car with my heels on, he said, "wow, you have great legs, has anyone ever told you that before?".....I smiled and said, "well, I used to tell myself that all the time...." and then giggled for 5 minutes straight before I told him the above story.
More shameful dates to come!
Once upon a time, I loved my booze. I loved it strong, straight, and in large quantities. This time was not limited to college unfortunately, but some of my best stories did occur between the years of '99-'04 (that's right, I LOVED college so much, it took me 5 years)....
The booze made me do silly things.....dye my hair blond, go out in jean mini-skirts without underwear, make out with people I hated sober, and eat only asparagus and broccoli and Diet Dr. Pepper. It also made me think that accepting a date with Persian rug salesman 17 years my senior was a normal and fully reasonable idea.
I remember going out one night with my blond hair and no panties and meeting a man. It happened a lot and often when I woke up, all I could recall was that the person I met was alive. When this particular man called me the next day to take me to dinner, I was really excited. I lived in this fantasy land where I thought that acting like a bloated, crazy, drunk, messy buffoon would help me land a soul mate. I believed that tequila and vodka made me a better person, not a human hurricane, so I drank insane amounts of it and walked around town in a drunk haze and imagined myself some music video vixen....OY.
I was VERY disappointed when my future husband to be showed up to pick me up for the big date, mind you, the very next day after meeting him (I didn't know ANYTHING about not accepting a date on such late notice, I hadn't read The Rules yet). In less than 24 hours since I met him, he became everything I wasn't looking for: unattractive, super thin, smelly, pimply, missing teeth, he drove a car that had plastic wrap windows, he didn't speak English well, and he only wanted one thing and one thing only....MY vagina. This was bad, very very bad.
I made him take me to an expensive restaurant because obviously being the fine lady I was, I deserved to be treated wonderfully, like a princess. I knew there was only one way for us to bond, for us to find that magic that we shared the night before, for us to be able to stand each other's presence and that was for me to get very VERY drunk.....and I did.
Several martinis later, he looked just like I remembered, blurry. Like a Picasso. He was no longer a carpet salesman, but a man with major potential who specialized in interior concept and design. The vodka was pulsating through my core and begging for this man to love and adore me, so I did what I did best (and why I most likely always seemed to attract men with limited understanding of the English language because they were the only ones that could tolerate me....), I bragged about myself.
I started with my beautiful "natural" blond hair and continued to my straight teeth (I had braces for 4 years). Moving downwards, I bragged about how I didn't need a bra because my breasts defied gravity (they were quite small at this time, so a bra wasn't super necessary) and how my (recently thinner, but still rolly) tummy was a perfect shade of bronze from maximum tanning bed and sun exposure. When I felt he was hanging on my every word (most likely trying to piece together my sentiments because of his limited grasp of English and my excessive slurring), I moved in for the absolute kill......
My legs.
Now, I will say, everyone has a good feature and mine are my calves. Yes, they are attached to rather chunky and cellulite induced thighs, but they shapely and firm and were even better when I was 20 as I was tan, with less mass, and tons of muscle saved up from playing sports since I was a teeny girl. They were something to be proud of for me, especially for how little effort I was putting them through at that time in my life (perhaps stumbling is a better workout than you would think....)....I literally had a 15 minute rave session about my own two limbs and then ate my supper, sobered up a bit and begged to be taken home as I was feeling like I had to vomit (regular occurrence in college, not puking up food, puking up booze).......and he was looking less like abstract art and more like the carpet salesman that picked me up 2 hours earlier.
When I got home, to my HORROR, I learned my roommate and a very best friend to this day heard all about my legs...........HOW? Was she dining at the restaurant? Spying on me through the window? Working in the kitchen?
NOOOOOOOOOOO.....
I had pursed dialed her from my date in my drunken stupor and she listened in on the hysteria in detail. She caught the ENTIRE leg conversation......
I couldn't look at myself for days, I was so embarrassed.
To this day, she will not let me forget it. In the past whenever I would go out on a first date (even my first date with Crush) she would always ask...."did you tell him about your legs?"
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
I almost peed in my Spanx, the first time I dressed up to attend a party with Crush and while I was getting into the car with my heels on, he said, "wow, you have great legs, has anyone ever told you that before?".....I smiled and said, "well, I used to tell myself that all the time...." and then giggled for 5 minutes straight before I told him the above story.
More shameful dates to come!
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