I know, I know. I’ve been neglecting this blog for months and I owe you stories. I’ve been hearing you all complain to me that I haven’t posted any new blogs in a while, so I would like to officially apologize for attempting to have a successful love life. Where the hell is the fun in that?
Since my last post, some things have changed. Most importantly, I left Miami and moved to Rochester where I bought a house and am working at my dream job. So these are no longer tales from a single girl in Miami – now they’re tales from a single girl in Rochester. I hope you can all cope with that. I also have somehow acquired four cats. Stop judging. Most recently I have begun meowing. I’m serious. Beyond that, everything is basically the same. I promise, now that I’m back I will give you all the stories you have missed out on over the past few months. In fact, I think we’ll start right where I left off.
So after I stopped dating the Rocket Man, this guy messages me and starts talking about physician assisted suicide and since he’s a doctor he wants to know more about my position. What?! A chance to school a doctor about the disproportionate impact of physician assisted suicide on people with disabilities?! SIGN ME UP.
We agreed to meet at a coffee shop that was a total of 3 minutes from my house because I’m not going out of my way for a date. When I arrive I see what I can only describe as an adult version of the kid from Up.
Yep. Now picture that in a white doctor’s coat and you’ve basically got this guy. Wait no. Don’t picture it, I’ve got it covered for you.
After about 5 minutes of talking to this guy I learned that he basically knows everything/ is an expert at everything. I quickly labeled this guy “Dr. Know It All.” Dr. Know It All was so into talking to himself, and the only way for me to get a word in was to talk about him - except I wasn’t really that interested in him, so instead I asked him questions about the brain since he was a neurology resident. Every question I asked he’d say things like “Well, it’s hard for me to explain because I studied this at Harvard and you wouldn’t understand the intricacies…”
“So break it down for me then.” I replied.
“Well, this is really complicated stuff. We’re talking about the human brain here…” Dr. Know It All went on.
Wait. You mean the human brain isn’t as simple as making toast? I had no idea.
After he told me how brilliant he was over and over again and how it would just be impossible for me to understand any answer he gave me about how brains work, I finally said “Listen, I get it. You have a medical degree and I don’t. I’m not a brain surgeon, I know. But instead of being a condescending douchebag maybe you could just try to explain things to me.”
For the first time since the date started Dr. Know It All stopped talking. Thank you Lord.
Then he apologized and toned down the douchebag and asked if he could take me to get a cheeseburger to make up for his douchiness. He said the magic word (cheeseburger), so I said yes.
The rest of the date was just fine, so when he asked me on a second date – and promised me another cheeseburger – I said yes.
He told me he had to work some morning shift the next day, so I tried to make our date quick but he just kept talking. He told me all about his incredible apartment in South Beach that overlooks the water and blah blah blah. Then he made a condescending remark about nurses and how they do too little work and make too much money.
That’s when my sass-o-meter went to the dangerous red zone and I verbally lashed him. I ripped him apart, noting that my best friend is a nurse and she is one of the most hardworking humans on this earth. Then this mofo tries to interrupt me and says “You don’t understand. I’m a doctor!” and, I shit you not, he began banging his fist on the table and yelling “I SAVE LIVES!”
Whoa bro. Calm your God Complex down. I am in the middle of ripping you a new asshole. Don’t you dare interrupt me.
After I take him down a few notches, remind him he’s not God, and that nurses keep patients alive too, he apologized.
The next day he texts me to ask me on another date. You for real? Were you there when I tore you apart yesterday?
He offers me Chinese at his place. He swears he knows where the good Chinese food is in Miami and because I hadn’t found good Chinese in the 10 months I was there, I was tempted. Then he started talking up his apartment again and how I would love the view.
It was a Saturday and I had nothing to do, so I figured why not? This guy wants to let me rip him apart while he feeds me? I’m down.
I arrive at his “amazing” apartment that looks like its glory days were in 1972 and the Chinese tastes absolutely terrible, so I drink more than enough wine for the both of us to get the taste of what I’m sure is tomato paste and flour in my Sesame Chicken. We were watching Scrubs while we ate and I swear every time this guy laughed it sounded like a baby pig squealing. It kind of looked like it too. I was sitting next to a giant, chubby twelve year old who squealed and clapped his hands whenever something remotely funny happened. So I drank some more.
He could tell I was not impressed, so he invited me onto his balcony to enjoy the view. While we’re out there he proceeds to tell me that his mom bought him his BMW and he’s hoping for a newer one soon. She also pays for his disco era apartment. Oh, so you’re a doctor and your mom pays your bills? Cool.
Right when I’m about to throw myself off his balcony he tells me he wants to go inside. Fine.
I tell him I’m tired but since I downed more wine than a high school girl looking to lose her virginity on prom night, I really can’t drive. He insists I sleep in his bed.
Okay. Good idea. Let me just go to sleep so I can stop listening to your voice.
I go to his room and get in bed. Then, out of nowhere, I hear him enter the room and say “I hope you don’t mind, I sleep in my underwear.”
WHOA! WHAT!? YOU’RE SLEEPING IN HERE TOO!? AND YOU’RE UNDRESSING!?
Then this guy whips off his pants and all I see is tightie whities. MAKE IT STOP.
The kid from Up is approaching me in tightie whities and I panic. What do I do?!
So I did the only logical thing I could think of. I pretended I was a narcoleptic and went from awake to dead asleep in .2 seconds. He kept talking to me and trying to wake me up, but dammit, I was in drama club in high school and I learned to see the performance through, so I pretended to be out cold. It may not have been the best acting skills, but I was committed to my role.
The next morning I woke up disgustingly early in an attempt to get out of there quickly when Dr. Know it All wakes up and tries to make a move on me.
Excuse me? Hands off creepazoid.
I tell him it’s not happening and he asks why. I give him a number of reasons, including (1) I said no, (2) I’m allergic to latex, (3) I don’t have sex with guys I barely know, etc.
He apparently just forgets the fact that I said no and pulls out a GALLON SIZED ZIP LOCK BAG FULL OF CONDOMS.
What the hell?!!?!
He begins frantically searching through them for a latex free condom.
“Uhhh, did you miss that I said no?” I ask.
“Look, I can’t find a latex free one, but we don’t need one. You’re on birth control right?” he asks, clearly ignoring the whole “no” thing.
“I’m not sure what the hell you’re thinking, but that’s not an option.” I tell him.
“You can trust me,” says the guys I’ve known for three days…
“Okay, I got tested a few months ago, let me just pull up the hospital database on my laptop and you can look at my medical file” he says like this is a normal thing.
“What the fuck? No. First, I’m not looking at your medical records. Second, you got tested a few months ago. Plus, I said ‘no’ remember?”
He proceeds to ignore the whole “no” thing AGAIN and tries telling me again that I can trust him.
“I’m going now,” I tell him as I head towards the door.
“Wait!” he says, “how did you like the Chinese last night?”
“It was terrible,” I tell him with my hand on the doorknob.
“Oh, that’s okay, we can order from somewhere else next time.” He was serious.
Shockingly, there was never a next time.
A self-absorbed doctor who looked like the kid from Up asked me on a date. I went and called him out for being a douche, in response he bought me a cheeseburger. He asked me out again and I ripped him apart for talking trash about nurses. He asked me out again, I drank to tolerate him and my terrible Chinese food, then he told me I could sleep my drunkenness off in his bed. Out of nowhere he stripped down to tightie whities and got in bed, so I played dead. The next morning he tried to convince me to have unprotected sex with him because I could “trust” him, despite the fact that I’d only known him for three days and told him no multiple times.
1. There is no good Chinese food in Miami.
2. Nurses are amazing and unappreciated.
3, The image of the kid from Up in tightie whities is IMPOSSIBLE to get out of your mind.
4. When all else fails, play dead.