Volleyball Guy

It took me about a week to think of a moniker for Volleyball Guy so that I could write about him. And really, I don't know that Volleyball Guy is even the right one to have decided upon. It was either that or 'Natural Gas Analyst', since that's what he does for a living, but to be honest, this guy was so nondescript that I just found myself fumbling to come up with something good to call him. So we'll just use the name that he chose for himself on his Match.com account.

VG was an okay looking guy in his Match pictures, and he was super nice in his emails. (I really need to always remember Heidi's advice for me and stop being drawn to the 'nice' guys. Nice = boring.) We met on Tuesday night in Union Square, and the moment we met I could tell that this was not going to go very far. His khakis were just a size too big, but he had belted them quite nicely, so that he had that illusion of having a FUPA, and he looked like a really unfortunate combination of Jewish and Italian. And to have sealed the deal on my becoming immediately disinterested, he spewed sarcasm from the moment that we said hello.

He also ended up not having a plan of action for once we met up (such a date foul), so I ended up leading us to a wine bar that I knew semi-nearby. I tried to order just a glass of wine, but he insisted on a bottle. $70 and 2 rounds each later, I snuck into the bathroom to text Heidi to escape, while I let him pay the bill. Hey, I didn't want a bottle to begin with, so I felt little to no guilt for that one.

I ended up ditching out early, offered some lame excuse when he asked to take me out again on Friday (I mean, who in New York really has to pick up a friend from the airport on a Friday night?? I don't even have a car. Hello, Diana, think quicker on your feet next time.), and headed out to meet friends.

On Friday, the dreaded follow-up text came: "Hey! I forgot I was going to dc to visit a friend late next week and weekend but would you like to get dinner with tues or wed? :)"

I dwelled on my next move for a good four-and-a-half hours before finally deciding to promote good karma and to do something that I'd never done before. Instead of just rejecting him with a rude silence, I texted him to let him know I wasn't feeling it: "Hey, thank you so much for thinking of me, I really appreciate it, but I didn't feel a chemistry the other night. I wish you the best of luck in meeting someone great though. :)"

I have to say it was much better of a move than having to dodge a couple more days of text messages, and hopefully he'll pass on that same respect to the next girl he isn't interested in. Because doesn't it just totally suck when the guy you were crushing on just doesn't answer?

injury on the field.

So I am working at Starbucks this afternoon and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror....and, weird, I have a coffee stain on my lip. I mean, I just drank two ventis, stained teeth would be normal - but my lip, so weird?!

I go to the bathroom to clean it off - rub a little water on it...but so weird, it's not coming off! I lean in and look a little more closely...it's not a coffee stain, it's a big PURPLE bruise. On. my. lip.

Suddenly I remember yelping in pain on Sunday night sitting outside karaoke when Ivory tried to molest me and bit me - hard. I seriously think he might have popped a blood vessel in there. I didn't even know that was possible. Wow, just, wow.

Update: Ivory

I went out with Ivory last night. Yes, even after doing the 50-yard dash out of Brooklyn last weekend, we've been texting all week and I agreed to a Sunday night date because a) I *did* have fun with him on the first date and b) my karma is all fucked up after the Brooklyn incident and I need to set it straight.

As on date #1, everything was good at the first spot, a nice tapas bar on the Upper West Side, then en route to the second...the requests to come home with me began, and continued every five to ten minutes. Now, I'm not sure when I became such a prude, but I've decided to make this one wait a while.

So...at some point I decided to share my dating secret with him. He was telling me about some girls hitting on him at school....so I nicely suggested that maybe he should start fucking one of them so that he wouldn't be so horny and we could just chill a little.

I don't think he liked that suggestion so much? He told me that he didn't want to do that, he only wanted to be with me...at which point I told him that I am not monogamous. I don't think he liked that either.

Anyway, at least I'm honest. But, I do believe what I told him. Heidi's Secret to Dating #1: Keep a fuck buddy on the side at all times.. Any woman who's woken up at 7 AM with a snoring naked 3rd date in her bed knows that sexual frustration doesn't usually lead to good places.

Lessons from the Battlefield

Lessons from the Battlefield this Week – Read and Learn.

1) Be wary of talking to a guy who sits at the bar the whole three hours you are there. It’s entirely possible that you will talk all night, do lots of shots, make out, then get up and leave to go to the next bar – and find out he is 5’5”.

2) Men in their 30s can still have 5 minute sex. And I’m talking in the bed, not an airplane bathroom. I’d still like someone to explain this to me, please, because I am pretty sure this was supposed to end somewhere around 19.

3) Doing sketchy things in sketchy places is even more fun than you think it’s going to be. I’m just saying. Do it. Life is too short for inhibitions.

4) Be careful when Google stalking someone who you met a few shots in. You may become convinced that you found him, get thoroughly freaked out when you think he is a wannabe vampire…and 2 days later, discover that you have Google stalked the wrong person entirely.

5) Run, do not walk, away from a man who sees that you have a Brazilian and asks you “why you do that.” It’s not a good sign of what’s to come.

6) Your doorman will probably not respect you in the morning.