The Brit that ruined accents forever.

Did Heidi and I ever mention that we joined OKCupid one night while we were being drunk and silly? Well I've hardly ever logged on, but the tricky part of that site is that people instant message you while you are on, so it's very hard to not speak to at least one of them.

This guy, we'll call him The Brit, messaged me, I checked his profile, and I wasn't so into it, so I ignored him. Well then he pulled the "Did I not pass your approval test?" line which made me feel like an asshole, so I said hello back, and it went from there. His picture actually was cute enough - he looked like a dark haired, kind of serious but possibly suave British guy with blue eyes.

Boy, can pictures lie.

He asked for my gchat, and we decided to grab drinks that upcoming Tuesday evening. He gchatted with me throughout the day Monday and Tuesday, and we actually got along quite well in conversation. I was actually a little nervous going into the date, hoping that I looked okay and making sure that my hair and make-up were all fresh.

I arrived at the bar at the Ace Hotel and saw him from across the room. I had been worried he might be a little short for my taste, but I could fully see his height upon walking in and was relieved that he was at least 1-2 inches taller than me. Crisis averted.

Til I rounded the corner and got the full view. You know how we ladies sometimes have weight challenges in the 'love-handle' area? Well, I think that the male equivalent is the 'spare tire' zone. And boy, was he packing a spare.

I had never been on a date that had turned out to be chubby, so I was caught off guard for a split second. It looked like he had attempted to be put-together, but something about it all just read 'sloppy' to me... Ugh, no bueno.

So we have our drink at the hotel bar, and then he immediately interjects that he has planned our next destination. Oh goody.

We walk a couple of blocks to an Italian wine bar on E. 28th Street - a cute place, but I totally was over this date already. There just wasn't a physical attraction, even I could admit that, and I don't know what it is, but when someone continually is telling you that you are 'lovely' all throughout any of your conversation, the whole thing just feels awkward.

Of course, The Brit insisted on ordering a bottle at this wine bar, and as I was with Volleyball Guy, I didn't feel badly when I made an excuse to run to the restroom right at the time that I knew the bill would come. Maybe I'm a jerk, but I did not opt for this second destination or a bottle of wine.

He had a third destination planned apparently, but I cut him short and told him that I had to be at a work meeting bright and early and had to get home - it was already pushing 11 pm at this point, and I felt that I had been polite for as long as I could possibly muster.

We left the wine bar, and as I was reaching up to dig in my purse for my Metrocard, he took the liberty of grabbing my left hand and interlocking our fingers. Ew. Hand holding to me is actually somewhat intimate - I'd first make out with someone before I opted to hold their hand even - and I was completely grossed out that he made such a ballsy move. I pulled it away slyly, and kept digging for the Metrocard.

We finally reached my train stop, and I tried to make a quick escape, but of course, The Brit had other plans. He grabbed my hand again and then asked, "Might I kiss you?" in that British accent that I was now completely turned off by. I pulled away and kind of giggled, "Oh nooo, I'm a good girl...I don't kiss on first dates." (Such a lie.)

He accepted defeat, asked for a next date, I eluded that question, and dashed into the subway.

I arrived home to a text, "I had a lovely time. When can I see you again?" I slept on it, figuring out what to do, and I decided to continue with my attempt at positive karma and wrote back, "Thank you so much for a nice evening. I really appreciate your asking, but I just don't think that I felt a romantic connection. I'd be interested in keeping in touch and being friends, if you'd like."

Gosh, I thought that was nice of me. At least I didn't ignore him, which he had mentioned on the date was one of his biggest pet peeves.

His response? "Well that's one bloody way to say good morning."

What a sore loser.

The biggest let down of the date? I think that he single-handedly has managed to ruin any of the Queen's accents for me: British, Australian, S. African...they all just sound annoying to me now. Bummer.

you can't make this shit up.

This is what was delivered along with my chicken parm sub for lunch today. Evidently I made quite the impression on the guy who answered the phone at Manhattan Pizza.

Run in with Big Red

Friday night, the girls and I headed downtown to a bar that none of us had ever been to before to attend one of Heidi's friend's birthday party. We were there for no more than 60 seconds, when I queued up to the bar to order a drink, and I do the swift little room-check for cute guys, and I do a double take at a tall, red-haired man to my right. Shit, a guy I'd met on Match.com.

He totally saw me double-take, so I turn toward him and do the polite, "Hello, how are you? Diana, remember? We went out a few months back." Introductions of our friends ensued, and then a nice, "Alright, well nice seeing you," from my side.

I turn back to the bar, where Muffy and Heidi are eyeing me suspiciously, wondering how I already intro'ed myself to a stranger at a bar in 5 seconds flat, when I whisper, "That was Big Red. You know, the one that bored me to death on our date back in January or February." At which point, I do a sly little glance his way, just in time to see his 6'5'' red-haired frame ducking out of that bar as fast as he could.

If he bored me on our date months back, I must've really freaked him out to make him want to flee, regardless of how full his cocktail still was.

Another one bites the dust.

It's going on two and a half months since Delaware resurfaced and we started our little dating affair. Walks in Central Park, movies in Union Square, dinners in Soho, dinners on the UES, drinks in the East Village, wandering through the Upper West Side, and after each and every date, a return to whoever's apartment was closest. The apartment-return would see us watching movies, sitting on the roof taking in the NY skyline, sipping some more wine, talking, making out, making out, making out.

Which can be fun. When you're 16.

However, these days, I'm a twentysomething professional living in New York City, on my own, in an apartment of my own, and I would seriously appreciate, especially after the two month mark, even just the slightest of a boob graze. (Because let me tell ya, Delaware, your love of dry humping really does not turn a girl on.)

I really don't get it. I've tried to further the situation myself, and managed to make a little bit of progress, so I thought. But only he reaped those benefits, let me tell ya.

The girls and I have had many a discussion on what the issue here might be. Shy? Maybe. Physically incapable? No, shot down that theory the night I took it upon myself to be a bit aggressive.

So after long, careful observation, we've come to the conclusion that I just can't see him anymore. I can't take the torture, and at the end of the day, I do not want to be the aggressor in a relationship.

Therefore, I must say, Sorry, Delaware. I hate to be mean, but I just can't date a 28 year old virgin.

make a sweet love? really?

really, seriously.

how did I get myself mixed up with a guy who keeps texting me that he wants to 'make a sweet love' to me?

I think I need to go to therapy.

Easter, according to Pothead

"Too bad you're not in town [for Easter]. I'd be your chocolate, you could be my bunny."

-Pothead

Romancing: The Match.com Way

I received a message from a guy on Match.com asking me about my week, telling me about his, and then rounded out the nice-enough message with: "I have a theory about you, by the way. :)"

Upon reading that last line, in stepped the side of me that gets defensive when people think that they know me before they actually do, so I responded with a short: "Hi, what's this theory that you've got?"

His response: "My theory is that you like men who are optimistic and upbeat because you like those qualities in yourself but at the same time you feel those qualities lacking in yourself and so want a man to fill them. How did I do? :)"

This, of course, brought out my I-don't-need-a-man-to-fulfill-me side, and I got too annoyed with his lame psychoanalysis to even answer.

I kinda feel sorry for him now that I retype all of this... I mean, was this the best pick-up line he had???

I think I need to work on my choices.

I don't know why, but I do find Ivory Coast to be somewhat endearing, despite the bouts of the giggles, the rooftop incident, and the time he tried to follow me home. The first two hours of both of the dates we've been on have been really, really nice. They've also both ended with Pothead showing up, some giggles, and some molestation attempts....so, yes, I clearly need to put an end to this.

For some reason, though, I still kinda like him. I really can't explain it, and he keeps doing really weird things that are making it difficult.

Case in point: an hour ago, my phone rings, Ivory's number. We usually text, not call, but OK. I pick up.......it's Pothead. Chatting with me on behalf of Ivory, asking me to come hang out.

So, either:
a) Diana's little sexting bit the other night got them thinking about a threesome.
b) They really are secretly 14 year old girls impersonating French African men.
or
c) Pothead is secretly Ivory's agent/bodyguard, who pretends to be his friend as to not freak me out.

or d) they are just fucking weirdos.

I don't know. It's all very strange. I am thinking about all of the men I have been out with in NYC and my track record is really not looking good. I'm starting to think it's me. Full rundown coming later, maybe someone can help me figure out the pattern.

This just in:

Apparently, like tequila and texting, tequila and being sexually frustrated don't mix either.

I just received an order confirmation email from Rabbitvibrator.com.

Apparently, I felt a little online shopping was necessary last night. And apparently, I felt that I deserved only the best, because I ordered the $100 one.

Fantastic.

Tequila and Texting do not mix.

Texts from last night:

Him: Hi Diana, its Pothead. How are you?

[six hours later] Me: I'm well thanks, how are you?

Him: I'm a year older, 27 now. We should go for a drink at The Wine Bar sometimes.

Me: I'm sorry, I hate The Wine Bar.

Him: Oh ok, you got a place you like to go for a drink?

Me: Well I mean I do have a boyfriend though... Does that matter to you?

Him: Well, he's your bf, not mine, i digged you that night, you're really cute.

Me: Well thanks. I have a question. What was the guy doing on the roof with just suspenders and boxers but no pants?

[thirty minutes later] Me: Pothead my love...please tell me the suspenders story

-Pothead calls. I don't recall the conversation, just that I know I really egged him on even further. We hang up.-

Me: It was so good to hear your sexy voice.

Him: Hehe, really? Glad you like it babe.

Me: You speak french, can you tell me what menage a trois means?

Him: It means me, you and another cutie.

Me: How about you me and another guy?

Him: Lol, you're funny, you're game like that? I never done that, but i'm like that energy bunny, you only one of me ;)

[I think he meant, "you only need one of me"...]

Him: I'm back home, we should meet up, i'll teach u more sexy french.

Me: Hm, menage a trois. What about you and Ivory Coast?

Him: What??? You're serious? i don't know about that ...come on babe, let me drop by and say hi, i haven't seen you in a while.

Me: I'm actually really serious. Is that a problem?

Him: Ok, let's meet up and talk about what you want to do, imma take a shower, let me know, if you serious, i can seriously drop by and get down to some serious business... Nope that's not a prob ...just say the word, i'll be right by your doorstep, coming to put some dick between your legs, just say the word. Lol, we can alternate...seriously u got me in the mood, i wanna tear your ass apart babe...

-At this point, The Beard was listening in to us girls laughing so hard at the text messages that he grabbed my phone, and decided he was going to answer Pothead for a while. I didn't argue and let him text away. I'm seriously going to hell. The following messages sent from "me" are actually The Beard...-

Me: The only thing you'll be putting in me is a serious bout of nausea.

Him: Ok, i get it...but you started with this, i just played along. i didn't think you were serious at first, that's why i asked you, but think what you want to think.

Me: Take it easy buddy I'm sure there are women lined up around the block to have your awkward sexual advances texted to them.

Him: I didn't make any advances until you teased me about having a sexy voice and wandering about menage a trois ...i called you see how you were doing and if you wanted to meet up, that was it...anyway, it doesn't matter now.

Me: [this was Heidi taking the phone back and trying to wrap the convo up] Dude pothead I'm just drunk and was playin'. Dude its all good.

I'm going to hell. I'm going to hell. I'm going to hell.

Karma & The Principal

After diagnosing my MDFM situation to be a direct result of my bad karma, I have made a conscious effort over the last few months to right my wrongs and leave a good, I dunno...vibe or something, out in the dating world.

I had pretty much set everything in a positive direction until a quick little slip of the Blackberry occurred this weekend.

Let's rewind to Friday, where I had a planned date with The Principal (as in, of a school). We had met on Match.com, and because he lives in Brooklyn (aka Geographically Undesirable), we decided to meet at some beer bar in Union Square. Because Muffy and Heidi were heading out for what sounded like way more fun than my Principal-date, I met them prior to heading downtown, and admittedly got a little drunk.

Three martinis and a $17 cab ride later: I met him, he was okay cute, we had a semi-boring conversation, I diagnosed that as good of a job as I was doing being able to pretend that he was entertaining me, he was doing a poor job of pretending that I was amusing him, and we mutually cut the date short about an hour and a half in. Cool, no big deal. Then right at the end of the conversation at the bar, I do a little head-tilt at something he says, and I try to re-evaluate if he actually is indeed interested in me. Either way, we leave, we walk toward the main street where I can catch a cab and he can catch his train to Brooklyn, we stop for a moment for me to mention I need to head to the left, and he looks, and says: "Okay, nice meeting you. Good night." And turns and walks away.

I was a bit taken aback at his super abrupt farewell, although admittedly not disappointed to escape the lame date and head back to the girls, but at least I then felt positive in his lack of any interest in me.

Until Saturday.

The girls and I were a few drinks in, making fun of his abrupt exit and decided to make light of the situation. I sent The Principal a quick email from my Blackberry:

"I had such a wonderful time meeting you last night. I'd love to see you soon.

Diana"

I said "wonderful"? "Love to see you soon"? I was sure that this would make his eyes bug a little that this was my response to our Friday night meeting.

Fifteen minutes later the good ole Blackberry beeps with a response:

"I had a great time too and would love to get together again. When are you free? How was your night tonight? Hope you had fun!"

Whaaaaaaaaaat? You have got. to be. kidding me. And more than anything, because I decided to mess with his head and in all honesty make fun of him, does this mean I have to work on karma reparation all over again??? Unreal.


....But now that I reflect on this situation and the juxtaposing evening with Delaware, I'm thinking that it may be quite possible that the MDFM Phenom really is taking a turn-around...

A week in text messages.

OK, I can't lie. I do sort of like Ivory Coast, despite the 2nd Avenue Groping Incident. But, more than anything, I'm highly amused by his texts. A few choice excerpts from the last 5 days(bear in mind that we have now hung out twice: when we met at a bar and one subsequent date)....in order of receipt:

"Heidddddi I really love you :)"
"Relax and think about my pretty smile for an hour and then you great :) Heidi really I like you"
"...I want to see you again so bad :)"
"Are you the most wonderful girl or what??? Cuz I really like you :)"
"You will have fun times with Ivory Coast :)"
"...hope that tomoro we two lay sleeping in our nest in the churchyard sod w our limbs at rest on the quiet earth's breast n our souls at home w lord"
"...and I am sitting in this boring class daydreaming about you..."
"I think I am a prince :)"
"...we will make a great couple :)"
"hey princess :)...I am getting plenty of rest for only you my princess :)"

footnote: typing all of these things out just freaked me out a little. and I didn't even include the funniest one of all as it deserves its own post. maybe this isn't so amusing???

Male Logic

Another special date last night. By the numbers...

Inches taller than me: 2
Attempts to kiss me at the bar: 11
Vodka sodas I sucked down in an attempt to make it better: 3
Times I said "OK, I am going to go.": 7
Requests to come home with me: 7
Times I was shoved into a phone both outside for attempted makeout: 1
Minutes it took him to text me once in the cab: 4

So, what I don't get here is - how can this poor guy not take a hint? Or, say, 25 hints?

Discussed with a male friend this morning and got some good insight into male logic. He said it's very clear - because Shawty knew I wasn't interested, he figured he might as well give it all a shot, just keep trying, get as much as he possibly could out of the date. Very interesting. At least he went for the gold. Too bad it kind of makes me want to bathe in bleach this morning.

Am I getting Punk'd?

2 texts that I just got in the last 10 minutes:

From Pseudo Boyfriend, who I have been pretty much avoiding since the night of 5-minute lovin and the introduction of Marriage Plan 2011:

"I'm so hating on these people with their relationships right now."

From Ivory Coast, who I met at a bar THREE NIGHTS AGO and am supposed to meet at a wine bar in 2 hours - upon confirming our plan:

"Cool--xoxo"

Pseudo: This is not going to help the me avoiding you situation.
Ivory: Are you secretly a 17 year old girl?

Who sends these texts? Do. not. understand.