Time for a guest blog! That really happened....to someone else.

Here it is, the first of many "guest appearances" on my blog. It's nice to know that I'm not the only one out there suffering through disaster dates. Below is a nice little entry from a very dear friend we'll just call JF. That really happened to her!

Who: Star Wars Super Fan
How We Met: Match.com
How Many Dates: 3

The Story: I went on 3 dates with Star Wars Super Fan. He was a nice guy, we both had worked at Disneyland and movie theatres and had a shared love of the Muppets. He was on the shorter end of the spectrum and a little hyper. Oh and he did that cr*ppy move where he asks you out for another date before you are even finished with the current date. His nickname was Tigger because he bounced when he was excited. But like I said, he was a nice guy. The moment I knew I had to end it with Star Wars Super Fan was when he took me to see Attack of the Clones. Now I love Star Wars as much as the next person, but he took it to a whole new level. Whenever Yoda came on screen, he would literally bounce up and down in his seat. He caught air he bounced so high! How could I go through life with someone who jumped up and down like he was on a pogo stick whenever he saw a Jedi Master?

After I ended the relationship, we decided to remain friends. One night he invited me over to his house to watch a movie. I walked into his apartment and the living room walls are all painted electric blue. LEGO X-Wing fighters and Tie-Fighters are hanging from the ceiling as if in mid-battle. The couch is draped with a Yoda blanket. The rug has a Star Wars theme. The dining room wall was covered with Star Wars figurines still in their packaging as if they were hanging at Toys-R-Us. As the apartment tour continued into the bedroom, I became speechless. His bedroom walls were painted, well, Yoda green. On his nightstand was a life-size Yoda. Now I ask you, what women in her right mind is going to have sex while Yoda looks on? That was the first and only time I visited Star Wars Super Fan’s apartment.

I eventually moved out of state but still kept in touch with Star Wars Super Fan. He emailed me one day to say he was going to be on VH1. He gave me the day and time but not the name of the show. I tune in with three of my male friends and a show called “Totally Gay” comes on. My friends and I sat through 45 minutes before Star Wars Super Fan made an appearance. He was on a segment about straight men adopting gay men’s grooming habits. Then Star Wars Super Fan says “I really like it when a girl sticks her finger up my a**.” All three of my friends turned to me as if I was the culprit. I never went beyond first base with Star Wars Super Fan so that was not my handiwork.

Last I hear Star Wars Super Fan was happily in love.

Are you naughty? (December 2009)

Alright, around the holidays it’s just too easy to make the “naughty or nice” jokes. It’s flirtatious and fun. It can also be taken too far, too quickly. Like when you’ve never met the person before. So dating around the holidays is weird and awkward. People have hectic schedules, people are out of town, work is busy, work is dead, etc. So I emailed Omaha (as we’ll call him) through match a few times before giving him my phone number. We began texting as well. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the get to know you type stuff. We planned to meet up when he got home from spending the holidays in Nebraska. I was on the way home from a friend’s house late one Saturday night when the texts started pouring in from Omaha. They started out innocent enough. Asking about my holiday, what I was doing, what I was wearing (???) before turning, well, downright inappropriate. Before too long he was asking me to send him dirty text messages. That’s not how I roll. Especially if I’ve never met you. I told him to grow up. I stopped returning his texts. Yes, this stuff really does happen to me.

If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.

Go ahead, you can touch it if you want. (December 2009)

Maybe I’m being way too kind by giving men “the benefit of the doubt”. Chances are if I’m getting a weird vibe from them on the first date, it’s because they are weird. Also, I might need to stop dating Texans. Neither her nor there. So date one with Texas Meathead took us to the local sushi joint with a bar in the basement. Drinks were $5. I had two. Guess who paid? I did. Strike one. I also had to walk to my car alone that night. Strike two. But I was flattered when he texted the next morning, so I agreed to a second date. *Note: I had a bad vibe from the start of date 1. Ladies, trust your instincts.* For our second date he suggested Mexican food and margs. Perfect, I’m on a mission to find Denver’s best marg. He suggested Lime in hip and happening Larimer Square. Apparently on Friday nights this restaurant should be called “Club Lime”. Really Lime, techo and house music at 8pm while people are eating? Come on, you’re better than that! Or maybe not. So at some point early in the evening I was asked by Texas Meathead how many times that day I had worked out. It was Friday, I was tired. I did not get up early to go to the gym. I worked all day. I said zero. You would have thought I said I kick puppies for fun with the look I got. You see, he’d been to the gym three times that day. He proceeded to flex his bicep to prove it. He also said “go ahead, you can touch it if you want to.” I didn’t want to touch it. I wanted to vomit in his general direction. Then when our food came (which was a piss poor excuse for Tex-Mex, at best. I seriously think I’ve had better food at Taco Bell. But I digress…) Texas Meathead was so focused on shoveling food in his mouth that I’m pretty sure he didn’t take a single breath for 5 minutes. That’s how long it too him to eat his food. 5 minutes. On a date. I thought maybe I was confused and that he had entered us in a speed eating contest. I half expected him to slam his marg then beat his chest while proclaiming “Meathead full”, followed by a belch. So at this point Texas Meathead goes to the bathroom and I strike up a conversation with a nice gentleman at the bar. Texas Meathead didn’t like that one bit because before I knew what was happening he told me to get my coat, stormed out of “Club Lime”, and marched through Larimer Square. At this point I decided he was ridiculous, so I stopped walking. I was left on a street corner with my mouth hanging open as he stormed off in the general direction of his car. Date over! At least he paid for the crap food and horrible margs!

If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.

Sleepless (and boyfriend-less) in Seattle (March 2006 - May 2008)

Ah, Seattle. Great city, poor dating options. While I was living there it was voted one of the top 10 cities for singles. What were they smoking? I want some! In Seattle I met the geeky Microsoft guy who used a discount card on our second date at a horrible restaurant. I met the engineer that ensured me he was not “a typical engineer”. Yes, yes you are. Socially awkward. Inappropriate conversation. Typical engineer. Wait, inappropriate conversation? You want more details on that? Okay…well the words “penis” and “vagina” were used, complete with gestures. Yes, that really did happen. On a date. In public. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Of course my final fling in Seattle was with the English Soccer Player. He was tall, really tall. He had an accent. He coached soccer and thus had a completely opposite schedule than I did. He worked from 2-10pm on weekdays, and was coaching or playing almost every weekend. Most of our “dating” consisted of texting, late evening run-ins, and the occasional evening at the bars with the friends who introduced us. He had no money so we hardly ever went out for dinner, but he did have an accent and therefore he was given a lot more slack than I’d normally allow other men. Did I mention that he was tall, played soccer and had an accent? Our relationship ended when I moved to Portland. Which he found out about through the friends who introduced us. About a month after I moved. Whoops, I guess I forgot to call him.

I still think penis/vagina guy comes close to topping the list of bad dates. Thanks for that, Seattle!

If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.

Park your car in Harvard Yard (July 2003 - March 2006)

Boston. Three years of my life in my early to mid 20’s. Boy did that prove to be a good time for adding to the list of disaster dates. And some good ones too. But first the disasters. There was the guy who made plans and then disappeared on me…three times (my fault for that one). There was the guy who was completely different in person than what he had written on his match profile. (How can you go to Univ. of Florida and HATE football???) There was the Frog Pond skating date that was rained out and then turned into an uncomfortably long dinner in Beacon Hill. There was the teleski guy from New Hampshire who keeps his sleeping bag in the car…just in case. He also told me that teleskiing gives him great leg muscles, and if I was lucky he’d show me sometime. (I think I threw up in my mouth a little bit…please don’t say things like that on a FIRST DATE!) Then there was the entire disaster situation with the roommate of a nephew of a friend of a friend (got that?) which was on and off for six months. He was cute and it was fun while it lasted! I’m racking my brain for more, I KNOW there had to be other disasters. I’ll revisit when I can add to the list.

If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.