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*

  

My attempt at being mysterious...

I hope all of my single friends have had a lovely holiday so far. My coupled friends....suck it, go cry on the shoulder of your sig other. This holiday was splendid for me, spent it at my parents house, but was readily aware of my lack of a love life when I found myself sitting sandwiched between Padre and Madre while watching Love Actually . Now for those of you who haven't seen this movie, I am not going to explain anything about this movie...you should be able to get the jist of it from the damn title, and if you don't we have issues. As I sat there watching these increasingly sappy love stories I began to think back to my love life over the last year. There is one person that seems to come up quite often in my group of friends and has even become an anecdote for people to tell at dinner parties. (Cue the sound of my self esteem both rising and falling at the same time. Wrap your head around how THAT happens).

I began going to the gay clubs and bars frequently back in Jan. 2011 when I began hanging out with gay friends on a regular basis. It was new and wonderful and full of dancing sweaty men who just wanted to belt out Lady Gaga and Britney Spears without being looked at like they were fulfilling any of the stereotypes they actually were almost always fulfilling.  I began to slowly fall in love with this world while in Baltimore, but it wasn't until I went to Philly on a random weekend with gay friends that I realllllly fell in love. 

I drove up to Philly with gay bffl (best friend for life, duh loser) and sang Britney Spears and Beyonce (cahm ahnnnn we arent that gay. You can only sing Britney Spears OR Lady Gaga when not at the club. Read the rule book. No need to out gay the cars next to you.). Pulling into Philly was magical and it seemed like a brand new playground for me. I literally couldn't wait to go see the Gayborhood and all the fun things Philly had in store for me. 

We checked into our hotel and proceeded to get schwasted with a group of gays who I'm pretty sure judged me the whole time and I generally had a terrible time that first night. My dreams dashed against the liberty bell I woke up with an inexplicable urge to go to a sports bar and hangout with straight people to balance the cattiness from the evening before. Once I was finished being a drama queen and the gay bffl was done being a drama queen, I realized going to a straight sports bar meant I would have to actually watch sports and the men there wouldn't be interested in me (or would they be? *WINK, WINK* get it...did ya see what I did there? "straight" = fun game! JK lolzzzzz)

Anywayz we spent the entire day walking around the city scopin' peoplez out and deciding what debauchery we were going to get into when our lesbian friends came for the second night. I couldn't wait for them to arrive and our glittery night adventures to begin!  (All good night adventures with the gays involve glitter. I'm pretty sure Ke$ha is just a gay man posing as a woman.) I got shnazzed up in my normal black attire (It's slimming. Im not gothic. I promise. I like colors. ughhh I knew you would make this awkward. I wear more color now, ok??). We had a couple drinks before we left for the club with the ladies. The first place we went was fine and ok...nothing to write home about, it was really the second place that changed the game. 

We walked into Voyeur and there was a magnificently large circular stage in the center of the room with men, upon men, upon men packed on it. My first thought was "Aww hellz naw Im not getting up there. Those crazy queens!" Much to my shock and awe, my gay bffl responded to my "thought" by telling me he had no doubt I would be up there at some point in the night. (Apparently in my drunk state, my thoughts became word vomit that I felt necessary to spew onto my group. Damn you Drunk M., damn you). We made our way up to the second floor of the club, which overlooked the entire first floor, and got a couple of drinks. As we stood up there....Beyonce's "Run the World (Girls)" came on....

Gay Bffl and I ran down stairs as if Judy Garland herself had strolled in ready to hand out the Queen-iest  of Queens award, and we had been called for first place. We began dancing like maniacs and trying to replicate the music video we had memorized the weekend prior. While down there on the floor I looked up at the stage and there was this dark figure walking towards the edge of the stage. He looks at me, I look at him and he points. I turn and search in the crowd to see what he is pointing at before I realize it is me. I slowly walk to the stage as if I am on a runway, trying to remember what Tyra had taught me on ANTM, and he pulls me up to dance with him. I rock the crap out of the stage and out of this attractive black man. As we begin to mack it on stage, my friends begin to hoot and holler like banshees. Embarrassed by this....I continued to mack for a few more minutes and dance. THEN I got off the stage. 

Several moments later we repeated the entire process above.  Point. Dance. Mack. Hoot. Holler. ROCK his mother effin' world. While I was up there dancing with him we had a very short exchange that went like this. 

Him: Why you so sexy?

Me: *silence, unsure how to answer perplexing question*

Him: Sexy, My name is Stephen

Me: Thats a nice name. My uncles name is Stephen. (Whaaaaaat? WHAAAT? MY UNCLE? who the HELL brings up there Uncle as they are dirty dancing with a man on stage? *winces at memory*)

Him: Uhh thats cool. Whats your name?

Me: *Winks* Thats for me to know and for you to find out? *Winks again, continues to dance and mack it*

Can we discuss for a moment my last sentence. Thats for me to know and for you to find out. Ummm YO....he was trying to find out and you thought you were being sexy and mysterious. Nope, sorry about it you were just mind boggling and confusing. In my drunk state I figured that the sexiest thing I could do would be to NOT tell this person my name, which explains my singledom. Stephen and I could of had a lovely drunk convo that turned into breakfast, that turned into spending weekends at each others homes, that could've turned into vacationing with the parents, getting proposed to and being married in front of the Liberty Bell. But we will never know because I didn't tell him my name. 

To this day I get random text messages from people that say "Why you so sexy" or friends who will ask about how Stephen is doing. Any possibility of a future with this dark finger pointing figure has gone out the door and down the drain. PSA for the kiddies: Mysterious only works in the movies. 

Internet Dating: 4

Fabulously Lost: 0

Philly: Pretty damn good...they have lots of gays.

It's sad when Crazy doesn't phase you

There is a moment when we all feel more desperate than normal, right? I tell myself all the time that everyone is just as desperate as me and we are all in this together like one big happy family. Well all the single people right? Desperate? Do I really keep talking about my desperation? Yup, but why  not just keep the illusion up that I'm not alone and you can all agree with me! COOL thanks, you guys are way better than my imaginary friends from yesteryear (2007).  Well this Christmas Eve tale is focused jusssst around that kind of desperation.

It was November 2010 and I was trying to get myself in to the holiday spirit. I was living at home, sleeping in the same room that I refused to update from high school because, in my true fabulously stubborn nature, I believed I wouldn't be living there much longer. This meant that I got to look at all of my horrible hair styles from the eary 00's (think N'Sync before they were certifiably hot)  

(actually that last statement was blasphemous...they were always hot. except for one of them. Im looking at you Chris Kirkpatrick. You all didn't even know his name...he was the dreads.)

I also got to look at my posters and pictures I cut out from magazines from when I was 16. This was slightly disturbing because, while both the celebs and I have grown up since then...these photos have not. So staring at a 17 year old Jesse McCartney just felt wrong.

It was at this point that I decided to give into this person who had sent me three messages in 24 hours letting me know he was really into my smile and my eyes. This would creep most people out, but when you are looking at 17 year old Jesse McCartney before you go to bed every night, you end up not judging people as much. So I responded to Batshit Crazy and checked out our profiles to see how compatible we were. 

OkCupid let me know that I was a 53% Match with this person, we were 34% friends, and like 45% enemy. Don't ask me how the site does their math or if those three are supposed to add up to 100%, because they never, ever, ever do. Now this would normally send me a-runnin', but as we can see from the above photos and statements...I was feeling needy. After a few messages, Batshit Crazy and I decided to meet up and go to the movies and dinner. Typical date. What. Could. Go. Wrong? HA, I always asked myself that...and yet here I am, writing to you all about the woes of singledom. 

Batshit Crazy called me the day of our date to let me know I would need to pick him up because he didn't have a car. (Red Flag #1) (I have obviously decided to disregard everything OkCupid told me about us not being a real match as red flags.) I decided to go forward with this anyways because for some odd reason I really wanted to see Morning Glory, I think it has to do with the stereotypical gay males obsession with movies about strong females...but HEY thats for my therapist to delve into! 

I drove about 30min to pick up Batshit Crazy from his former stepmothers house. (read that last sentence twice and lemme know how you feel about it) I seem to have a couple issues with this. 1. I drove a crap ton for a person I'd never met. 2. He explained to me that he liked hanging out with his former stepmother, whom his father was married to for 7months, back when he was 3. (read number 2 twice and lemme know how you feel about that). I asked him if his father still spoke with this woman, Batshit Crazy said no...and then said his father didn't know he had found her and was talking to her. (Red Flag  #2)

Ignoring ALLLLL of the signs that the heavenly skies had provided with me on why this date should never have happened, I let Batshit Crazy into my car and drove 25min to the movie theatre. (Red Flag #3) made an appearance almost immediately in the car when he turned to me and said,

"I'm feeling like a durrty boy today" *wink*

I laughed. Boisterously. Loudly. Trying to cover up my fear of what the rest of this date would have in store for me. (Batshit Crazy stared at me as I laughed, because he of course was DEAD serious.) The rest of the drive involved him telling me more about his dysfunctional family, his lack of a home (by choice) (Red Flag #4), and his lack of any real income (Red Flag #5).

We arrived at the movie theatre and I prayed for an earlier time so I could suggest just going straight into the movie. Little Baby Jesus was looking down on me because we were able to get into an earlier time and I said we should just get concession food for dinner...and it worked. *pats self on shoulder for a job well done* *realizes accomplishment isn't that great in the grand scheme of things and is back to a level of self deprecation he is more in tune with* As we walked in the previews began and Batshit Crazy let out a squeal that I have only heard from 11 year old girls when they glimpse a photo of Justin Bieber in the magazine they purchased...which is about Justin Bieber. He turned to me and let me know how he adored movies and hugged me....*shivers* (Red Flag #6)

As soon as we sit down Batshit Crazy grabs my hand and says "I can only watch a movie if I am holding someone specials hand" *wink*.....Ummm what? You can only...what? You must not get out often sir. Unless you lure men in with your incessant messaging and you suggest to all of them that you want to be taken to the movies. Then the only person who is really special is you. Dear SIR you have now made me...confused, lost, and am I feeling a bit of jealousy? The last part concerns me too, don't worry you can judge me. (Red Flag #7)

 The movie is playing and playing and playing....it wasn't a very good movie. Damn you and your infectious smile Rachel McAdams, I would have canceled this date had I known it was so bad. The unthinkable happens about 45min into this never ending movie. I turn to get my drink and as I released my hand from his now moist (love or hate the word...thats what this was) hand, he leans over and plants one on me. This is the sloppiest of the sloppy kisses because I had been ambushed and I also didn't reciprocate the Kirby-esque suction thing he was now doing to my face. I feared for my lips and for the severe PTSD I was going to experience whenever his tight suction grip let loose of my poor face. As he pulled back he looked at me with a smile and said that was the nicest kiss he had had in awhile. Really? REALLY? (Red Flag #8) 

The real kicker comes about 120 seconds post-aggressive gorilla attack when Batshit Crazy looks at me with shear terror and says, 

"I'm not a slut. I don't do this with everyone. I'm not really a durrty little boy"

This grouping of sentences causes my skin to crawl to this day. Let us dissect this like one would dissect a frog in 7th grade Science class. 

1. "I'm not a slut" - you attacked my face with a kiss...you didn't grab at my junk or try to go down on me. I think we can all agree not being a good kisser usually means the OPPOSITE of being a slut. (Red Flag #9)

2. "I don't do this often"- Hard to believe...you're kinda a slut. (Red Flag #10)

3. "I'm not really a durrty little boy"- well thats good because you are 22 years old and far from a little boy. I don't want to know what you mean by durrty but I really think you should take a shower when you get back to your faux-stepmothers home. (Red Flags #11-20)

I ignored his sentence and prayed that a weapon of mass destruction would somehow find its way to the Columbia Mall just so this date would have a better ending than it was probably going to have. After the movie, I ended up driving him home as he told me his plans to move to Northern PA to be near a friend. This is a friend he hadn't really spoken to in a couple years but she has a big house from what he remembers...didn't think she would mind. (Red Flag #21...don't know why Im still counting flags) 

At his faux-stepmothers house he suggested we get together the next day because he has no idea when he will be moving to his best friends house. She just has to call him back so it could be ANY day and I shouldn't lose this opportunity. Manipulation Nation. I told him we'd talk. *spoiler alert: we never talked again* Moral of this story: sometimes you need to listen to your gut and the confusing percentages OkCupid gives you.

Internet Dating: 4

Fabulously Lost: 0

Red Flags: #winning