And Then There Were None

Where have I been? That's a really good question. I have been awkwardly neglectful and stressed about my absence. Part of it is my own fault, part of it is work, part of it is doing research. (Research? Did I just try to make myself important? DID I? Yes, yes I did.) When I say research, what I mean is that I have been tirelessly going on dates for the last month. Remember that time that I made a promise to go on a certain number of dates before the middle of May? Cahmmm ahnnn, you remember. Fine, read it HERE. Well, I want to discuss the dates with you... in detail... now.

Date One: The Peaceful Snob

The first date I went on was at the very end of April. It was casual and friendly and not filled with any of the sparks or butterflies that you would want from a relationship starting date. The guy was a hippie teacher who had spent a couple of years in the Peace Corps. (Do you see where issues might arise? DO YOU?) I had decided that this date was going to be amazingly interesting and culturally enlightening, or a complete and total whack job. 

This was kinda the opposite of everything I thought it was going to be. The date started off normal enough with us making small talk about our lives and where we are in our careers. He fit all of the basic criteria for a mate: 29, teacher, tall, seemed to be grounded, witty. Then things took a turn when we began discussing his time in Africa. Out of nowhere he became a travel snob and started discussing his family's wealth. 

(Joan is perfect for expressing CONSTANT SURPRISE and mild annoyance. Thanks, Botox.)

I was slapped in the face with this. I wasn't expecting it. How does one prepare for this? You have just spent TWO years of your life working for the needy, the poor, the down trodden and the thing you want to discuss with me is the traveling you did? Not only did he tell me all the countries he visited, he then went into the trips he was able to take with his family. I think he told me about this one kid he helped once, and it was "like pretty cool."

I wasn't really sure how to continue the date after that. We tried to move on but I was so dumbfounded that I am sure I didn't make sense. Peace Snob just went about his business and continued to bring the convo back to himself. We parted ways with an awkward handshake/handhold thing and a promise of a second date... THAT WILL NEVER HAPPEN.

Date Two: The Intense Latino

So date two was a bit more promising than the first. The guy was a hefty Latino man who worked as a lobbyist. We met at my go-to place, Crios, in Dupont Circle. I go there for two reasons: (1) It's easy/close to where I live, and (2) They have fucking delicious margaritas, and if I can't enjoy the date I can at least get tipsy.

Latino Heat was obviously into the idea of a Mexican restaurant as well. We had decent conversation at the beginning and then got really deep into family shit. I usually get weird about this stuff, but I let it slide after the second marg. (Let's cool it on the judgement. Two more margs and we would have an issue.) After we finished our dinner, we slowly made our way up the street and when I turned to say goodbye, he went in for the kiss. Because I am a gentleman I didn't stop him... but I felt... nothing, literally, nothing. It felt like I was kissing one of my best girlfriends... nice to have lips on me but not really doing anything below the neck. (Wink, WINK.)

Despite the less than exciting experience, I decided to go on a second date with him to see if the sparks could be found. Unfortunately for him, our second date coincided with a massive work emergency that ended up consuming my attention for most of our date. We went to Mellow Mushroom in Adams Morgan, also not far from where I live (I'm a man of convenience), and nommed on some pizza. The sparks were far from present, and as I walked back to my apartment, I decided to let this fizzle out. 

Unfortunately for me, Latino Heat seemed to think we were a match made in heaven. He began texting me incessantly about hanging out again. I told him about my busy work schedule and then decided not to text him back. Then, in a period of 24 hours, he texted me 8 times. Eight. OCHO. ACHT. ATE. EiGhT. 

(ZOINKS)

I didn't know what to do with all of them. They ranged from normal checking in to increasingly creepy and clingy. 

Text 1: Hey, I know you are busy and stuff, I just wanted to check in and make sure you are okay. 

Text 3: Hey, I haven't heard from you. I was thinking our next date could be something casual and intimate. 

Text 5: So I really think we could have something special, let me make you dinner this week. 

Text 8: I have looked at your OkCupid profile a few more times, and I really agree with it that we are a match. I think we should make a go of it. 

I'm sorry... you are continuing to look at my OkC profile? WHAT? WHO ADMITS THAT? He might be admitting it because you can SEE when someone has looked at your profile. He actually looked at my profile every day for a week. I just... I just... I can't. MATCH FAIL. 

Date Three: Tiny and Bland

To round out this trifecta, I decided to go on one last date in May before I headed to Miami for my work/vacation trip. This guy was cute, dark, and gainfully employed as a consultant. (Read also: my dream man.) We were messaging back and forth, and he had some painfully adorable lines that swayed me into a date. The one thing that was holding me back was his height. Tiny Dancer was all of 5'6" to my 6'1" frame. 

(Just not my cup of tea.)

I sucked it up and went on the date anyways. I had somehow convinced Tiny Dancer to go to Crios with me after a rather long Friday at work. (Man. Of. Convenience.) We had a lot in common and the conversation just kinda flowed between us. There wasn't a great deal of attraction, mainly because I considered bringing a booster seat on the date, but he was nice, nonetheless. We had a few sticking points where I knew we wouldn't work out in the long run — beyond the height. 

1. He had a rule against having any alcoholic beverages after 9pm. Ever. 

     2.  He was a Republican. (No offense, Republican readers... I'm just... I... well, it's a thing.)

(This is from Aubrey O'Days stint on RuPaul's Drag Race. She, surprisingly, is not a drag queen.)

     3. Finally, the worst offense, he didn't like reality TV, especially Bravo. 

(If anyone can give a "Bitch Please" face, its Madame Hillary Effing Clinton.)

I am fairly certain he felt the same about my liberal, reality TV watching, hard partying ways. Plus, I was a giant next to him... and girl, that ain't cute. As if he needed an extra thing against me, the gorgeous host at Crios called me out. Close to the end of the date, the host swung by and stood near me, looking me up and down for a second. 

Cahhhute Host: You've come here before. A lot. You always have fun boys with you. 

Me: *shocked* Way to blow up my spot! 

Tiny Dancer: Fun boys?

Me: I hang out with a lot of gays? I like Tex-Mex. THEY HAVE GOOD BRUNCH.

Cahhhute Host: See! I told you, you're so funny! 

Anddd, another one bites the dust. 

Last week I was in Miami, this weekend is DC Pride, next week I'm in Chicago, and then I am going to NYC Pride. I want to update you on all of these things, Amanda Bynes, and the future of my liver. (Hint: It's not a bright one.)

Peace Snob: A new type of terrible 

Latino Heat: A hunk, a hunk of CREEPY LOVE

Tiny Dancer: Fell just short of being terrific. (See what I did there, DO YOU?)

Fabulously Lost: Hot Mess, since '88

A Glittery Guide to Getting Ready

A couple of weeks ago, I had this major epiphany that I wasn't taking an active role in my dating life. (I can literally hear you all going, "Uhh duh. All you write about is getting drunk and sports. Get. With. It." Please don't gay clap at me, I'm fragile.) So I made the executive decision to set up three dates with three different people before the middle of May. The only way I would divert from this plan would be if I fell madly in love with one of the first two gays and couldn't complete the trifecta. (HAHAHA... yeah, right, love.) So, I have done (sort of) just that!

I actually had a date this past Monday, and I have one set up for this upcoming Sunday! Instead of telling you about Monday's date — in complete fear that I will jinx it, because it went well — I am going to give you a A Glittery Guide to Getting Ready. ("Oh Fab! That's the title of the post too!" Yup, thanks genius... you really saw that coming.)

(These men are constantly in my head. Also, I wanted to do Kyan, bottom left. His. Name. Is. A. Seasoning. #intoit)

1. Grooming: This is something you should do all over. Start with the head. It's got to look fresh to death. You wanna make sure your quaff isn't an unruly mane. (Unless that's what you're going for — then make sure it is perfectly out of place. Must. Be. Perfect.) Don't stop there, though — you want to make sure every hair on your body is perfectly groomed and trimmed. (Ewww, why did I go there? BECAUSE THIS IS SERIOUS. THIS IS GAY DATING BOOTCAMP.) If you feel good, it shows through.  

(Groom yo self.)

2. Pump Up Music: I say this one because I have made the mistake before of playing methodical music before a date, and it has ended horribly. Playing Ingrid Michaelson or James Blunt (you know, the guy who sang the sad song about being beautiful) can easily put you in a thinking mood. You shouldn't be thinking before you get there. You end up doing things like deciding how you are going to fail at this potential relationship. You begin to pick apart all the things that this persons profile didn't match. You end up breaking up with him before you get on the date... because that's normal. (I may be speaking from experience, because I am coo coo for cocoa puffs crazy.) Anyways, listen to music that brings out the fun side of you and not the Emily-Dickenson-jump-off-a-bridge side of you. 

(Look how HAPPY she is. Bitty's been listening to happy music. You. Should. Too.)

3. Wear Shitty Underwear: "That seems super counterproductive, Fab. You just told us to look good on the outside, and we will feel good on the in. Now you are telling us to do the opposite — which is it?" Ugh, you are like ON TOP of shit today. I get it, this doesn't make sense... yet.

You see, from my many years of playing the field, I know that the only time someone wants to go out with you again is if there is a little mystery. I also know, from friends of course, that sometimes if you give up your goodies too early that mystery disappears. I also heard that that sometimes leaves you with a carton of ice cream and the Golden Girls wondering how Blanche Devereaux makes it through all of her lovers with her sanity intact.

To help me... I mean my friend... in this department, I say: Wear shitty underwear. If there is anything that gay men take pride in, it is their ridiculously expensive underwear. You do not want to be going to do the hokey pokey and showing off your off-brand ripped Target underwear. It's just not cute. 

(Soo... umm... yeah. It needed to be said. Sorry I'm not sorry.)

4. Dress the Eff Up: This isn't high school. Wearing a sweatshirt on a date is unacceptable, especially a first date. You have your favorite outfit/shirt, wear it. Hell, I don't care if you have a designated first date outfit because you feel good wearing it. (I would reevaluate it if you are still single and you wear it on all your first dates. Just sayin'.) You can dress appropriately for the climate; I am definitely not forcing anyone to always wear ties or pants. Just look good and find a friend to do a once over on you before you walk out the door. Spray on the expensive cologne to top off the outfit. Just make sure you don't bathe in it — there is nothing worse than a man who looks bangin' and smells like they fell in a vat of Ralph Lauren Polo. It ain't cute, yo. 

(If you happen to be Ryan, then you can wear whatever the eff you want. Because you're Ryan. Effing. Gosling. I think his middle name is Effing, I read it somewhere.) 

5. Bring Your Wallet: I have forgotten my wallet once before. This was a messy experience that led me to feel awkward and obligated. You should always bring your wallet because it holds your ID, and when you are over the age of 21, getting a drink on your date helps to lubricate the conversation. If you forget your wallet, you are unable to get that lubrication. This also presents the awkward conversation at the end of the date when the check comes. (Remember: You haven't had the social lubricant to make this convo easier, because you're an idiot) So you have to do the whole:

"Oh MAH GAWD, I'm a fool. I am so sorry. I will get our check the next time!"

And there you have it. You're a complete dumbass at this point. You not only forgot your wallet, so you can't drink, but because you haven't had that drink you don't think before you speak. Just like that, you sign up for another date with someone who you hoped would look better with your beer goggles on, AND YOU have to pay for it. So, please, tap your ass, check your purse, and make sure your wallet is with you. 

(FAHK)

6. Think of a Good Story: This one is all for you. If the date starts to tank and you don't know what to do, think back to your favorite story from another friend. It's usually 1/4 of the way into the date when I know if it is going to go anywhere. If the date is tanking, I start to make shit up about myself. 

• I lie about traveling. My favorite country to "visit" is Zimbabwe for its tropical atmosphere and the friendly people. Really great resorts. 
• I talk about famous people who I pretend to kinda know. I have "played" pool with Mark Wahlberg and "taken shots" with Lindsay Lohan — at the beginning of her downfall. 
• I tell little lies too, like going to sleep away camp most summers and having two dogs growing up. (I went to week-long sleep away camps and I had two turtles... not dogs.)
• I have also made the mistake of lying about moving. This used to be a rookie mistake — you never tell people you are going to do something and not follow through. I used to do this if things were really tanking, and I didn't want them to ask me out again. I was always moving to NY within the next month, except I never did. Then I would run into them at the bar and awkwardly clam up and take a shot by myself. Don't do this one. 

You see, it's not because I was trying to be mean, it's all because I secretly want to be an actor and I pretend to put on a character. (I'm normal. I swearrrrr.)  

(So many jokes, so little time.) 

Those are the six steps I use to get ready for my dates. Take them or leave them, they have done pretty solid over the last couple of years, exploring the tedious world of dating. I have gotten a few good stories and a few bad ones from following these. I also realize I just gave you advice on how to get ready for a date, and I am currently sitting on my couch in similarly colored sweats and gym shorts. Single. Someday, my friends, someday. 

Fab 5: My inspiration in life

Getting Ready: A glittery mess 

Dating: An expensive ugly beast

Fabulously Lost: Possibly looking for a new routine  

Thoughtful Thoughts

This is going to be a post about a couple shiznat happenings in my life. I do what I waaaant.

Shocking Events

I have to discuss with you guys a major issue that arose today. Last week, whenever anyone asked me to do anything, my immediate response had been yes. Movie? Yes! Trivia? Why not? Random semi-political concert in support of peace between Israel and Palestine? ... Sure!? I was just so enamored with the idea that I could finally do anything after work and go to my apartment and sleep in my own bed. So, it came as a massive surprise to me when I was asked to go to happy hour (my second favorite meal behind brunch) and I responded, "No."

(But. Whaaaat?)

There are only three possibilities for why this could happen:

1. I've just discovered that money doesn't grow on trees.
2. I'm going to Miami in May for work, and I need to start working out instead of eating out.
3. The Apocalypse is upon us.

Well, if you guessed ALL three of these, then you are right. (But mainly, you should probably start preparing for number 3, because that shit is real and not okay.) As I mentioned above, I have been going out on a regular basis since I moved to the city and pretending that I have unlimited funds for these things. I def needed to take a week off from spending money and what better way to spend my time than going to the gym? (I COULD THINK OF A MILLION THINGS I'D LIKE TO DO THAT DON'T INVOLVE A GYM. Sorry. I just. It's. Ughh.)

Remember that time I slipped in there that I am going to Miami in May and pretended like I wasn't going to talk about it? HAHA! I'm a sneaky mothatrucka. Real talk: My company is sending everyone to Miami in May for our company meeting. 

(Oh deary me!)

We have these amazing trips every year for our company meetings out on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Everyone just assumed that when we got too big we would end up stopping these events. INSTEAD, THEY ARE TAKING US TO MIAMI. (I'm prone to outbursts, sorry I'm not sorry) We are going for three days the week after Memorial Day. I have never been to Miami before, so I decided that I was going to stay an extra few days with a couple of gals, a couple of gays, and a straightee thrown in there.  In order to get my shit together for those buff, tan gays down in Miami, I have decided that going to the gym is actually going to be worth it. I am also going to be sucking up enough UV rays to power a solar-powered car for a cross-country trip. You know, 'cause that's healthy. 

(Basically, what I wanna be. Sans the boobs... and the sex tape.)

Barista Boyfriend

Since I moved in a little over a month ago, I have put my love life on the back burner. (I like pretending that I have a love life that can be placed somewhere other than in front of me.) I decided that it was important for me to get myself established in the city and set up my home for any possible suitors to see. (After AT least the third date. I'm classy like that. Also, #celibacy2013.) This hasn't stopped me from the occasional sloppy makeout at the local gay hangouts, I've just been more picky about who gets to see me sober. 'Cause that's a healthy way to date.

There has been one consistant man in my life since I moved to DC and he, my friends, happens to be the local Starbucks barista. 

(Oh, I wish I was that latte.)

The issue I am running into here is that I have created a fictional relationship with him. He is very, very nice and always has a gregarious greeting for me... just like he does with everyone else. I have also been there frequently enough for him to remember my drink — sorta.

Me: I would like a...

Barista: Don't tell me, I got this! You want a venti caramel macchiato, right papi? (Did I mention he is Hispanic? OH, I didn't? Welp, he's Hispanic.)

Me: So close! I would like an iced venti skinny vanilla latte!

Barista: Ahh, I was close. I'll get it next time! 

Me: No worries, you're so good at drinks making of them and such. (Remember how awkward I am?)

Barista: And your name is Steven, right?

Me: Close again! Its Mm...

Barista: I got this! It's Milo!!! 

Me: Close enough for today...

It's not Milo. Due to these brief interactions and the consistency with which I see him, I have decided he is currently my boyfriend. 

(Insane in the membrane!!!!!!) 

Concerts and the City That Never Sleeps

Next week, I am going to New York to see Taylor Swift! 

(Imma let you finish, but SUCK IT I'M GOING TO SEE HER.)

The concert is on Wednesday, and I'm going to be there for a few days of debauchery and other fun activities. We know how aggressive NY can be, so, hopefully, we will find ourselves in a game of Russian Roulette with a bottle of vodka and prowl the town for boys.

Until next week...

Bush: Puzzled about everything 

Miami: Heyyyy gurl

Kim Kardashian: I think I need to make a sex tape to get famous

Fabulously Lost: Workin for da man and livin an abbreviated dream

Why I Hate Surprises...

Before I get into my dating woes (because why would 2013 be any different?), I wanted to tell you a few quick updates about my life situation.

Mama Fab had only one thing to say after last week's post, which had a whole section dedicated to her sass.

Mama Fab: It's about time your friends know where you get all of your fabulousness. 

But, like, how is she right all the time? It's not like she decided to tell me it was a funny post, or that she enjoyed the part that she was in, but, instead, she made it about her. Obvs this woman is my mother.

(Like, I'm not saying my mother is NeNe Leakes, but I'm also not saying she isn't. #realtalk)

(Side Note within a side note: I don't think I could be more homosexual. I'm writing about my mother while watching reruns of RuPaul's Drag Race. I'm a living, breathing stereotype...andddd I lovvvveee itttttt- [said like Oprah])

Ok, the other news I wanted to share with you issss......KG and I....FOUND A PLACE. 

I have been waiting for this moment for.ev.er. I looked for the longest time by myself and out of nowhere I start looking with a friend and now I have a place. I couldn't be happier with the place and I am moving in three weeks. This is all sorts of cray. With all this time, I can guarantee you that I will wait until 6 days before hand and become a dramatic queen about everything up until the move. Luckily for KG, he will be in Israel and will only see me after I have already moved in. LUCKY HIM. I will be writing a farewell post to the best roomies (GET IT MAMA AND PAPA FAB) at some point rulll soon. Mmmk?

There is one other thing I would like to say (after I've had a glass of wine...or two). I am not trying to point fingers, because I'm not that kind of girl, but I feel like it is necessary for everyone to connect the dots. The inauguration just happened and I was reminiscing about where I was 4 years ago during the first inauguration. I was with my bffl Rachie and my big time college Ex (we were together at the time, duh), in my own apartment, casually successful in my job, had a world of dreams in front of me, surrounded by my best friends, slept until whenever I wanted, drank like a fish, and really just living the dream. 

Now, 4 years later I am living with my parents, single, all my friends are spread out across the country, I have to wake up when other people decide I am supposed to go to work, and I have to pay bills. I'm not saying it is Obama's fault, butttt CHU KNOW WHAT I'M SAYING.

(Good point, RIGHT Obamz?)

Alright ladies, it's story time. This is a bit of a throwback to my college days when I was young, fabulous, and broke. (Not much has changed.) Remember that time that I made out with Black Bieber? Ok, well in that post I spoke about girlfriend, who is one of my nearest and dearest friends. We are kinda, sorta like the devils on each others shoulders. We often convince each other that whatever the worst thing you could possibly do in a night would be the best thing to do right then and there. (i.e. alcohol is usually involved)

Anywayz, girlfriend and I had this thing where we would casually go through attraction phases (we would be into the same type of men at the same time), and more than once we would be attracted to the same exact guy. One of these times, we found a guy who we were unsure which way he swung. (Shocker, I'm attracted to a sexually ambiguous man) 

(but...just...love...me)

We, of course, had to turn this into a friendly game where we would invite him to do things with both of us and then also try and get him alone with us. Once, girlfriend convinced all of us to watch Paranormal Activity and let me tell you...this bitch does NOT do scary movies. Apparently neither did our sexually ambiguous friend, we both ended up curled up underneath girlfriend until she agreed to turn off the movie. LET'S just say, we decided he leaned a little more to my side of the baseball end zone. (I'm good with sports)

So, you ask, where did the terrible date come into play?  Well, don't you worry your pretty little head, we will get there. You may also ask when his nickname is going to come into play, because you are aggressive and you can't be patient. You see, our little friend decided to ask me out on a date and wanted to plan it out himself. He told me he would pick me up and he was really excited to take me to one of his favorite places in College Park. I was the giddiest girl in all the land. 

(Isn't he just the cutest? Ugh, I love me some silver fox)

He picked me up and we started driving down Rt. 1 away from most of the restaurants in the area. I began getting excited that we might be venturing away from the places I had become to accustom to over the last three years. But then it happened, just as I thought we were going to get on the highway and drive away from good ol' CP, he turned into the Ikea parking lot. 

(It's just the pits)

Me: So, are we stopping here for a quick furniture run? Need to pick up some tupperware?

Ikea: No, goof, this is my favorite place to eat in College Park! I knew it would be a surprise. I bet you have never eaten here before. 

Me: Yup, you're right. I honestly have never consumed food at this lovely furniture store. 

Ikea: Well you're in luck, because they have the best meatballs ever. They are from Sweden! 

I forgot to mention, Ikea, is as dumb as a brick. He is hands down one of the most attractive men I have ever sort of shared with any of my friends, but the boy is clueless. He was one of those men that didn't need to say much, because he was just so pretty. He had these piercing blue eyes and a smile that made you swoon. So when he says things like "Ikea's meatballs are from Sweden" you just sort of smiled and pretended he never said anything. #denial

When we got inside, it took us twenty minutes to get to the cafeteria portion of this building, because it's an EFFIN' MAZE. I was getting more and more annoyed with every twist and turn and all he could do was talk about how excited he was for these damn meatballs. When we finally arrived, I wasn't even sure I was hungry and I realized I was completely overdressed for this place. This was not the date I had dreamed about throwing in girlfriends face later. (Bittttch puhlease, you know I was gonna make a big ta-do about this whole date. I had out done her! But not really)

Oh, but it gets better. Not only were we on this date where we were having real life Swedish meatballs, my lovely date felt the need to answer a call from his roommate in the middle of our date. 

Ikea: Hey Roommate, is everything okay?

*Pause*

Ikea: Oh man, that sounds awful. You know I'm out with Fab, right? I told you about the whole dinner thing. 

*Pause*

Ikea: I guess I could ask him. Hey, uh, Fab, do you care if Roommate comes and joins us? He likes Swedish food too! 

Me: Sure, that will just be the icing on the cake.

Ikea: Are we getting cake? Aw man, Roommate loves cake!!

But, like, that's just how on top of things he was. It was the moment that I realized I no longer wanted to compete for him. You know, besides the whole ambiguity of his sexual orientation and his general misunderstanding of most normal social situations. Roommate ended up joining us and added just as much to our conversation topics as Ikea had. We eventually did get cake, because I had put it into their minds that cake would be part of the date. 

girlfriend and I have not competed for any man since, but she is still one of the best wingmen I have ever had. 

I am going to casually try and go into hibernation over the next few weeks to save money for the big move. Being as fabulous as I am, this is going to be a very difficult task for a social butterfly. Also the guy who I went on a 3rd date with...total dud. I've given up on 2013 and finding love. (Calling all drama queeeeeens!)

DC: Ready or nottttt

Obama: The reason I am single

Ikea: A maze of both furniture and love 

Fabulously Lost: Curer of homosexuality #datingfail

Repeat Offender

I was gone, December was hard, I worked too much, I was lazy, I liked sleeping more than normal. These are all legit facts why December sucked as a month for posts for me, but I'm back baby! I have decided 2013 is going to be a year of awesome. (Don't we all say that every year? Is it ever going to get old? Am I ever going to use my gym membership as much as I do this month? SO MANY QUESTIONS) Plus, Taylor Swift's lucky number is 13 (along with millions of other people), so this obviously means I will have a lucky year, because T-Swizzle and I are obvs bff's. Whatever, lets get on with the story...it's a doozy.

Real Talk: I have already gone on a date and we aren't even a full 72hrs into 2013. (SEEEEE I told you it would be a year of awesome. And. You. Doubted. Me. *gay claps*) But this date wasn't a normal date with me, it was with Repeat Offender. ("Whaaaaat? What kind of nickname is that? Who are you Fab? You're a monster." - what I imagine you thinking. Most of my imagination of what you think of me ends with you calling me a monster. #highselfesteem) You see, Repeat Offender and I had already gone on a date before. In fact, he was the first person I EVER went on a date with 2 years ago when I began my life of online dating.

(Hey gurrrlll whaaaat?)

That's right, I went out on a date with someone I had previously dated from this site. Back when I first started I was a bright-eyed 22-year-old who saw a world of opportunity and wasn't exactly sure where my life was heading. I liked the idea that I would live the life of a nomad and told most people I was going to be moving soon to somewhere not in MD. (*cough, cough* Ahem, we all know how that turned out.) So Repeat Offender and I never really stood a chance with my Lone Ranger thought process. He was also in a different place in his life having recently come out and dealing with all of those ramifications. The world was working against us and won. DAMN YOU WORLD! 

Anywayz, I noticed in my lonely desperation, that always surrounds the holidaze of single people, that Repeat Offender had visited my profile the week before Christmas and it gave me the idea to message him to see what was new. We ended up sending these long messages back and forth and picking up where we had left off. I was confused and oddly excited about this whole thing. I kept thinking to myself, "You know him already, this isn't a blind date. You were kinda into him back then. This could really work out." Because we all know I am a sucker for throwing myself into a relationship full throttle before they actually commence...because I am normal. So we decided to set up a date for New Year's Day and see where things would take us. 

(Real talk: I wanted a picture of fireworks, but then I stumbled across this gem. How could I NOT use the American flag to describe my excitement for my big ol' gay date? Right?)

New Year's Day rolled around and I thought I had been viciously attacked by the Sandman. I had never been so tired in my life. (I probably have, but I have a flair for the dramatics. Surprissseeee) Every year I go to a New Year's Eve party in Baltimore with all of my college friends. We party, we drink, we try and remember the ball drop, and then we spend the next day recovering. Except, this year I decided that I needed to be active on New Year's Day and go on an effin' date. I was casually raged with myself. At the same time, I was really hoping this date with Repeat Offender would be worth all the movement my body was so viciously against.

When I arrived at Cheesecake Factory (because all dates in MD need to start at a chain restaurant of some sort), I was greeted by Repeat Offender who had already been there for 20min. (I might've shown up a little late. SORRY, World War III was going on in my body. Not. My. Fault. *gay clap*) We stood outside in the freezing cold while we waited for our table and this is basically where things began going downhill. How? How could they be going downhill so fast? Ohhhhh let me tell you all the ways my dears. (ruh-roh)

Repeat Offender and I began our conversation just fine, talking about the holidaze and having spent it with family. I then asked him about what he had done for New Year's Eve. Who knew that would be the wrong question to ask?

Me: Did you do anything fun last night? Party? Family? Friends?

Repeat Offender: I was talking on Facebook chat with some friends. I didn't realize it was the new year until a few minutes after midnight. 

Me: Oh, bummer. Well at least you were talking to friends! 

Repeat Offender: I guess, it's really not as big a deal as everyone makes it out to be. 

Me: I guess, but it's nice to feel like you can have a fresh start and get to do something new with yourself. 

Repeat Offender: Nothing changes though. You aren't any different than the day before. Everything is the same. 

(But, like...for realz)

I was at an utter loss of what to do in the situation. This wasn't the same person I had been messaging or the person I had met in 2010. How did this happen? Was I just tired and reading into things too much? So many thoughts were rushing through my head at that moment. I decided the best thing I could do was to forge on and get coffee as my drink once we got in to the restaurant. I was determined to make Repeat Offender a successful date. Unfortunately for me, I feel like Repeat Offender had every intention of having a downer time...in every aspect of his life. 

As soon as we sat down I ordered my coffee and he ordered a soda. (This seems minor, just go with me. Take this magic carpet ride with me and all will be explained) I was flipping through the menu trying to figure out what I wanted. Due to my inability to make a full decision before I know exactly what everyone else is having, I needed to ask him what he was looking at getting. 

Me: The menu is so huge here, always hard to decide what to get. What are you looking at getting?

Repeat Offender: I think I am just going to have this soda. 

Me: Oh, uh, that's odd. Any reason? We could've just gone for coffee or something if you weren't hungry. 

Repeat Offender: I'm starving, but I only have $5.

(How else to respond?)

Who brings $5 on a date? How do you start off with that? Why would you suggest a date at Cheesecake Factory? So many questions I will NEVER have answered because I am polite and wouldn't ask those things. Instead, I just told him to order real food and that it wasn't a big deal, I'd cover. 

The issue then lies within his choice of food. I began looking at different items and offered up the idea of us sharing a couple of appetizers to keep the meal, ya know, cheap. Somehow that didn't work out the way I wanted it to. 

Me: A bunch of the app's look really good. We could get a couple of those to share.

Repeat Offender: I'm not a huge appetizer person.

Me: Oh, well, what are you looking at then? 

Repeat Offender: Oh, uh, usually I get the Parmesan Encrusted Chicken, but that's expensive.

Me: Yeah, that's definitely a little pricey.

Repeat Offender: Definitely.

*A few minutes pass and the waitress comes over*

Waitress: What can I get for the two of you today?

Me: I'll have the Chicken Caesar Salad.

Repeat Offender: I'll have the Parmesan Encrusted Chicken.

(Really? Reaaally?)

But, like, we had just gone over how he had $5 to his name and how that was an expensive dish. I even held onto the menu for an extra minute to see how much the dish was. Do you wanna know how much it was? Do you? IT WAS $20 FOR CHICKEN. I was more than casually raged at how this night was unfolding and instead attempting to enjoy it, I was trying to figure out how it was going to affect my bank account before my next paycheck. 

Our conversation consisted of me bringing up something that could be seen as positive and Repeat Offender bringing it to a dark place. 

Me: My goal for this year is to travel more. I am planning a trip to Spain! Do you have any resolutions or goals?

Repeat Offender: Last year I tried something like that. I decide 2012 was going to be my year and instead it was just kind of there... so I don't really do those things anymore. 

Me: Well it's definitely more symbolic. 

Repeat Offender: Like I said before, nothing changed between 11:59pm yesterday and 12:01am today. 

Me: I guess. I don't know, I am hoping to also go to more concerts this year. I love seeing bands live. 

Repeat Offender: There aren't many bands I am willing to spend money on to see. It's not really my thing. 

(Shut.Up. *So many gay claps*)

Nothing. NOTHING I said could make this date any better. I picked at my food for an hour while he devoured his meal and he contemplated licking his plate. We parted ways at the front door and I promised myself not to go on a repeat date like this again. (Unless he was, like, totes the cutest of cute boyz! Ugh, I hate me sometimes)

Repeat Offender: Probably finding another sucker to buy him dinner. And complaining about it

Cheesecake Factory: Overpriced. $20 for chicken? Reallly?

Rachel Dratch: A treasure 

Fabulously Lost: Tricked, bamboozled, and aimlessly wandering in 2013. 

P.S. I have another date set up on Friday. He and I have messaged each other a bunch and talked about our joint love of argyle. I think I am in loveeeee *too fast, too soon*