Why the rant, you ask? I'll give you three guesses.
Choice A) This is a public service announcement from the CDC
Choice B) I am a germaphobe
Choice C) This could only happen to me
Hope you picked C.
I started chatting with this guy through okc on and off about a month ago. He tells me that he owns and operates his own business, he is a fellow Long Islander and enjoys travel. Honestly, he's pretty dorky looking and though I normally fall for the slightly nerdy kind, this guy could be the poster child for the Still A Virgin campaign in NYC. I try to judge based on personality and not looks and he seems nice enough so I give him my number. Besides, a cup is a cup is a cup, right?
He lives down in Long Beach, one of my favorite towns in the whole world. The date he proposes is drinks and a picnic on the beach at sunset. How romantic! Dorky with a sweet side. Love it. Unfortunately, he calls me the day of our date and says that he woke up with his eye swelled shut and feeling like crap so he'll have to cancel. No big deal. People get sick. We'll reschedule. Except that he proceeds to send me a picture of his puffy, red, swollen, sticky, gooey, crusty, diseased eye. Oh. My. God. GROSS!!!
The next day, he sends me a message saying that he's feeling much better and could we please go out? No. Call me in 10 - 14 days when the antibiotics have worked their magic. Thanks.
Fast forward two weeks (doctor's orders) and we agree to meet up for a "quick drink." I have found that this is what men say when they're afraid I'll run away too fast for them to bother wasting a dinner date on. Don't worry, the practice works both ways. I suggest a restaurant in Rockville Centre that I've been to with my girlfriends and am comfortable in. They show sports on huge tv's over the bar so at least we'll have the distraction of baseball should there be a lapse in the conversation. Fortunately for me, the Yankees game has just started and I slide into a bar stool to wait for my date who has gotten lost three times in the past fifteen minutes. In the parking lot. No joke.
He finds me (finally, I was about to send out a search party) and I notice that he's holding an iPhone. He tells me how he unlocked his phone and it now has his own wifi which comes in very handy. I am about to think that this is a brilliant move when he shows me the name of his wifi network. The Dirty Sanchez.
For those of you not in the know and / or under the age of 18 (and I know some of you are reading this), I simply refuse to post the meaning of that phrase. Suffice it to say that you can look it up here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dirty_Sanchez_(sexual_act) but I will warn you that it is NASTY.
I am, of course, taken completely aback and he swears it's just a joke with his friends. He's never done that. Do I believe him? Not so much.
I shall spare you the monotonous minutiae of our conversation and just recap the highlights:
He wants to fly in an extreme wingsuit as seen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ttz5oPpF1Js which I think is CRAZY but makes him feel like a flying squirrel. Great, that's exactly the kind of man I want to date. Air born rodent.
He has a law suit against him for sexual harassment in the workplace from his own assistant director. But don't worry. She's not gonna win. Him being homophobic and teasing the gay guys in his office doesn't mean he's sexually harassing a woman.
They just opened a new massage parlor in his building which one of the guys he works with told him is actually a prostitution ring. There are apparently websites which verify that these places exist and in fact, give you the addresses and choice phrases to use when requesting "personalized attention." Now that he knows they give blow jobs as well as massages, he probably won't go there. Probably?!?! Great. That's precisely what every girl wants to hear. There's a distinct possibility that if you don't sleep with me, I'll be paying for sex by tomorrow. Gives new meaning to the phrase "staying late at the office."
At this point in the evening, I decide the date is long past over. He's five Miller Lites to the wind but I'm ready to run home and shower, nay scrub his aura off of me. I shall bathe in Purell and pray that his grossness doesn't stick.
But the Yankees won. So there's that.
Copyright Kimberly Spice 2010