Sometimes I think my life is funny.

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Dating with a Disability: Real Messages I’ve Received From Men – January Edition

I’ve gone on some ridiculous dates with some real winners and you’ve had the chance to read about them all. You might be wondering how in the world is it possible that I can go on so many bad dates. I am wondering that too. Honestly, I don’t think my standards are that high. Miami has certainly lowered the bar. I have come to terms with the fact there are absolutely no smart, good looking, gainfully employed, fiscally responsible men in Miami. But still, I never expected the dating pool to be this bad.

However, to prove to you that I am not purposely going on dates with guys I know will be duds, here are messages from guys that I have received this month that I did not go on dates with. As bad as my actual dates are, it appears that there is much worse out there…

Guys Who Are Questioning My Disability Right Off The Bat

My Very First Question of the New Year!
Hello there. why are you using wheelchairs?

Is "Wheelchair" Really That Hard to Spell?
Him: Why are you in a wheel chair?
Me: Why can't you spell wheelchair?

Seriously Guys, Spelling Counts.
Ok, I'm curious... What's up with the wheel chairs? Bc half of your pics you are in one and the other half not... Sorry I'm Brad by the way

Confusion Does Not Excuse Spelling Errors. Neither Does Being Clueless.
Hi ... :) ... well your friend can be 10x taller but not 10x prettier than you ... ;) ... apologies for the following question but I don't understand ... you are standing in some pics ... and other pics in a wheel chair ... if you may explain what happen to you ... I am clueless right now ... :(

Guys Who Both Wrote Eerily Similar “Original” Messages  

Bad News Joey, You're Not Very Original
Bad news Step_Funny... 

I saw your profile and there was something that caught my eye. Maybe it was that you seem outgoing too. What's the most spontaneous thing you've ever done? I have a feeling that there's more to you than just your looks, but let's see if you're as nice and interesting in person. 

I'm not one to talk too much about myself but I'm 22, athletic, and outgoing. So if you don't like to go out and have fun, then we're going to have problems ;-) 

Worst case? You'll make a cool friend, so let's get together for a drink or coffee sometime... 


Didn't I Get This Message Yesterday?
Hi there, 

I'm not good at writing someone new but please bear with me. 

I saw your profile and there was something about it that intrigued me, maybe because what you wrote about spitfire and disability rights 

I feel that there's more to you than your looks and I wanna know if you're as nice and interesting as you are in the picture. 

I'm also sure that you have gotten about 650 e-mails so far from old dirty men wanting to be your sugar daddy... or guys saying hi my name is John and I like long walks on the beach, cuddling and wine... 

If that's what you have been getting then you'll find this message refreshing... :) 

Can you tell me the most spontaneous things you've ever done or what do your friends say about you. 

I'm not the one talk too much about myself but I'm 35, tall and dark, have my act together and fun to be around, so if you don't like to laugh then we are in trouble... :) 

I believe we are both on here to meet someone new so let's get together sometime over a coffee. 

Worst case? You might make a cool friend... 


The Guy Who Doesn’t Like Women with Identities

That's Not My Name 
Him: Hey how are you?? Your profile caught my attention and after reading through it I had to say hi. I'm Josh by the way. You definitely seem genuine and well through my quest on here that's a hard trait to find haha, so I'd love to chat and get to know more about the woman in the picture ;) I work for the government (well get more into that later) but I try to get on here as much as possible. Well hope to hear from you sweetheart.- Josh

Me: You know you sent me the same message a few months ago, right?

Ya you never responded. What are you up to cutie

That's not my name.

Lol wow nm

The Weirdos

 The Fortune Cookie
Everyone we meet brings an impact to our lives, but it's up to you decide if you want to make a great impact or a bad one. I can say that a great one can happen if we decide to get to know one another, do you not agree?

No. Just No. 
Hey gorgeous , I mean flawless :) are you doing today? . By the way, I love your smile.

Umm... Okay?
I'm a cancer. ;))

The Persistent Guy With Terrible Pick Up Lines 
lol why is a cutie like you still single ?
I want to feed you chicken fingers lol

The Extreme Weirdo

Santa? Is That You?
I am so glad the holidays are over. Now I can lose the beard, put the reindeer away, and stop breaking my ass inside of chimneys. Nothing but sunny beaches for me now, how about you?

 Lessons Learned:

1. I should not have an identity.
2. My ability to sit and stand is still really confusing.
3. Santa is just another creep living in Miami.

Sunday, January 19, 2014

That Time I Went on Date (or two) with a Predator

On Friday I received a message from a guy who said he was from NYC, was only in town for a week, and wanted me to show him around. I told him I am a terrible tour guide and thought that would end it. He decided he wasn't going to stop there, so he told me he read my blog (yes this one) and wanted to take me out.

Wait a minute. You read my blog which is basically just me ranting about my dates and you still want to take me out? That’s pretty brave. So I agreed.

I was supposed to meet him at a restaurant on South Beach, but when I got close I realized there was an art festival going on and Post Cereal had a tent. Clearly cereal is more important than date punctuality, so I went and got samples of free cereal. I discovered a cereal called Mini Cinnamon Churros and it’s amazing. Since I’m an incredibly nice person I brought my date a cup of cereal to the restaurant (yes, I am that classy).

When I met him the first thing I thought was “Holy shit Stephanie, did you check his age before you said yes to this?” I didn't. I just assume that no one over 35 would ever ask me out because I’m completely out of their age range. I was wrong. When I got a chance to sneak a look at my phone I checked his profile and SURPRISE he’s 47. What? Why did you ask me out? You’re seriously 4 years younger than my mom (ps. don’t tell my mom I published her age online).

He talked a lot and we had nothing in common. Oh, you’re a vegan? I eat cheeseburgers at least 3 times a week. Oh, you love jazz? Yeah, that would go great with my collection of Justin Beiber CDs. Oh, you read the New Yorker? I read Mr. Poppers Penguins.

After dinner I thought I’d be free to go, but he insisted I needed to try port wine and we needed to find a bar that serves it. Alright, that won’t hurt right? So we find a place that has a 20 year old port and a 40 year old port. I tell him “I should get the 20 and you should get the 40. The 20 will be sweeter and better anyway.” He did not get my joke (or any other witty comments I made throughout the night).

Finally, when we’re on our way back at the end of the night he says “Oh, isn’t it funny that I got the 40 and I’m in my 40’s and you got the 20 and you’re in your twenties?” I reply, “Isn’t it funny that I made that joke 3 hours ago and you’re just getting it now?” Work with me here old man!

Then he asks me, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Ugh. Really?

“I’m studying, and then going to event to raise 10,000lbs of food for needy people in Miami.”

He asks me out, I say no. He insists I must be able to take a break at some point. He kept pushing and I felt bad because earlier he said having dinner with me was better than spending the night alone reading, so I agreed to have dessert with him if he came to my neighborhood the next night. What can I say, I’m a sucker.

The next night (last night) I went to a barbecue with my church friends for the food drive.

(Side note – Boy Scout from NYE was at the barbecue and I received confirmation that he is indeed straight. He’s the kind of straight guy who needs to be coached through sexual encounters and then clings to you like a puppy afterwards. Damn. I really missed out on that one!)

Anyway, when I told my friends I had to go because I had a date they said they couldn’t wait until they could read about it on my blog. I felt bad because I didn’t think this guy deserved to be ripped apart by me just because he’s old and nerdy.

I told my friends that the situation with this guy was great because he’s only in town for a few days, so I could hang out with him and have dinner without him ever having any expectations from me. Okay, that’s a lie, I said it in a much classier way - I think my exact words were “it’s great! He’s only in town for a few days so I get free food and there’s no way he can expect me to sleep with him!” (because I apparently live in a fantasy world where guys would never imagine they could sleep with a girl that they haven’t even known for a week, much less two days).

Spoiler alert: My fantasy world crashed and burned last night.

So I left the barbecue and met this guy at a coffee shop at 8:30pm.  He told me he wanted to eat dessert and play scrabble so I thought this would be a great place, but he insisted we could not eat dessert there and we needed to go to a nice restaurant. Umm. Okay?

We walk down Miracle Mile looking for something to suit his dessert needs and we see a fundraiser to cure paralysis with food trucks.

“We should go here!” he says.

“No. We’re not going to an event to cure paralysis and make people walk. That’s really offensive. Would you go to an event to cure blackness to make black people white?” I reply.

“Well, I was thinking if that was a junior Nazi event I’d still go. If it has good food that’s all that matters.”


“No. That’s not okay.” I tell him.

Finally we find a place where he is willing to eat dessert. We order and start playing scrabble. He kept trying to convince me to get wine but I told him I had an early morning the next day so I wasn’t going to drink and I needed to leave by 11pm. He kept insisting, I kept saying no.

As we were playing I asked him how his day was. He told me he spent the day at the beach. Then he said “I saw a topless woman!” and proceeded to go into detail about her toplessness. Well that’s just lovely.

After we had dessert we were still playing – probably because he’s the slowest player in the world and would take at least 10 minutes to play a word every fucking time. I was getting rather impatient. I told him to hurry up but he said he needed time.

“You only have seven letters. If you can’t think of a word in ten minutes then you’re never going to think of one, just play something!” I kindly demanded.

“Do you want another dessert?” he asked.

“Okay.” I agreed because at least that would keep me busy as he took an eternity every turn.

“We could take it back to your place and finish the game there” he said.


“No. But we can finish the game here if you want,” I told him thinking he was a creep as I impatiently waited to play the word “zit” on a triple word score to get mucho points.

“Why not?” he asked.


“Because I have an early morning and I don’t think you’ll leave if I let you in, plus my apartment is dirty.” I told him even though I didn’t need to give him a reason.

“Are you feeling dirty tonight?” he asks.

I have been told by many people that I have a very expressive face, so I can only imagine that this is the look that was on my face at that moment:

“No. But my apartment is.” I told him firmly.

“You didn’t clean up thinking that I might come over?” The creep wouldn’t let up.

“No. I didn’t. I knew I wasn’t going to invite you over. I know before I leave the house if I would invite someone in later and I would never invite someone in that I have barely known for a day.” I told him.

He wouldn’t let up and kept pushing.

“I don’t give into peer pressure,” I said waiting for him to give it up and just play a fucking word.

“But I’m not your peer, I’m older than you,” he told me as if I didn’t already know.

“I don’t give into old man pressure either,” I replied “and just so you know, since you are an old man that just makes you a predator.”

“I know I’m a predator. I’ve come to terms with it” he said nonchalantly.


That’s like being a pedophile and, instead of trying to stop, just accepting that you’re a disgusting creep and acting on it.


“Can you just play a word? I would have left by now because you’re a major creep, but I want to win so can you just play?” I told him as I fiddled the Z, I, and T in my hand.

He finally played and I ordered more dessert because at that point I figured fuck it – he might as well pay for me to have more dessert while I own him in scrabble. What do I care?

I then go to play the word “Camel” on another triple word score and as I place the letters down one by one he thought I was playing “came.”

“No, camel” I said as I placed down the L.

“Came is a much better word” the predator responded.


Then he asks “is ‘V E’ a word?”

“No,” I told him. “It’s a contraction.”

“Like if you were pregnant and having contractions?” the creep replied with an extra creepy smile.


“No, like the word ‘we’ve’ the ‘V E’ after the apostrophe is a contraction,” I sternly corrected him.

Finally we finished the game and I won.

Evidence that I won. 
“I’m going now. Bye.” I told him as I left him sitting at the table waiting for the check.

Then I booked it home and locked my door behind me as soon as I got in my apartment.  

 Abridged Version:

I accidentally went on a date with an old man from out of town. I felt bad because he was an old, nerdy, and lonely, so I agreed to go on another date with him. On the second date he asked me if I was "feeling dirty" and tried to pressure me to bring me back to my apartment. I called him a predator, beat his ass in Scrabble, and then left his ass at the restaurant. I also ran home and locked my door.

Lessons Learned:

1. Always check to see the age of your date before agreeing to said date.
2.  Lonely old men are sometimes lonely for a very good reason.
3.  My fantasy world is not real.
4.   I need to start locking my door every night now. 

Sunday, January 12, 2014

That Time I Couldn't Stop Myself From Ruining a Date with a Really Great Guy

Last week I went on a date with a smart, good looking man and I had a great time, so clearly there’s very little chance that there will be a second date. My theory is that every time I go on a bad date my date thinks it went really well, so if I think the date went well my date must think the date was terrible. Plus I acted like myself the entire date which clearly didn’t help the situation.  

My great date was with the Upstate NY Lover/Hater who I met at the New Year’s Eve party (update I’m now almost 100% sure he’s not gay). Yes, that’s right. I went on a date with a real human that I did not meet online. I was shocked too.

A few days after the party we started texting and apparently I was being my usual douchey self so he asked me what it would take to have a normal conversation with me. My answer? A cheeseburger. Duh.

"Little girl" is catching on as a popular nickname for me. 

He also may have read my blog about him (my bad) and told me that no one has ever called him a boring kisser before (whoops!) and that he wanted a redo.

C'mon. That's just awkward and adorable all at once.

Eventually he asked me if I wanted to get a cheeseburger “sometime.” I told him “sometime” wasn’t a date because a date has a day, time, and location. Sorry, I’m not going to be your backup plan whenever you get bored this week and have nothing better to do. I’m think I’m good enough that you should make a plan to see me and look forward to it. Plus, hi, I work in a law office where getting out before 6:30 or 7 is almost impossible unless I plan ahead and I’m studying for the NY bar on top of that, so I actually have to plan my dates. I can’t do everything on a whim no matter how badly I wish I could.

Finally he asks me on a real date – he says he’ll pick me up at 7pm on Wednesday and we’ll eat cheeseburgers. Well, he said the magic word (cheeseburger) so I said yes. But then I remembered that when we met he told me he didn’t have a car and he just used the metro and his bike to get around, so I was confused on how he was going to pick me up. I asked how he was going to pick me up on his bike, but he clarified that he’d pick me up in a car.

I've actually always wanted to ride in a
bike basket ET style.
I guess that's a no go for the basket riding.
At this point I obviously needed to google him because: (1) I needed to make sure he wasn’t a sex offender/possible murderer, and (2) I remembered thinking he was good looking when we met but it was dark at the party and I was a little tipsy, so I wanted to see if he was actually good looking. Let’s just say I was more than pleasantly surprised with the search results.

By now I already thought he was smart and attractive, but then he stepped up his game and called me. That’s right – he called me. No guys ever call anymore, they all just text so I’ve basically lost all hope of ever being called, but out of nowhere this guy calls me.


Oh, and he doesn’t stop there. He proceeds to have an intelligent, fun conversation with me (despite all my smartass comments) for an hour. AN HOUR. Hi, I think you’re wonderful. Oh, but he wasn’t done yet! Then he randomly starts playing piano, which was clearly just an attempt to impress me, but it worked because he plays the piano well (so I told him he played like shit, obvi) and I thought it was really cute that he was trying to impress me.


Now that my standards are through the roof, I tell my best friend all about this guy and how I’ve already decided I want to kiss him and she takes it to the next level and tells me to just marry him.

Katie has also seen the sad selection of single men, so
she wisely advises me to marry any man that is
blows the average guy out of the water. 
Great, now you’ve raised my best friend’s expectations too. THANKS A LOT.

Finally date night comes around and when he picks me up he attempts to get out and open my car door for me, but I missed the memo and just got in the car. Oops. “I was going to get the door for you,” he tells me. “Sorry,” I tell him, but then notice my security guard is watching so I say “at least my security guard thinks you’re a gentleman.”

As we’re driving I notice his GPS is speaking in Hebrew and he swears it’s like that all of the time but I’m wondering if it really is or if he’s just trying to impress me. I already think you’re smart, so you don’t have to keep trying to prove yourself to me. But if you really do listen to your GPS in Hebrew all of the time, I'm even more impressed.

Then I ask him “so who did you steal the car from?”

He says, “I’ll tell you, but we need some confidentiality. You need to promise this isn’t going in your blog.”

I promise him that I won’t put it in my blog unless it’s really funny.

“It’s not funny,” he tells me. “It’s my mom’s car.”

Really? You don’t think that’s funny? I’m sorry, but that’s hilarious, so here it is, in my blog. (Plus, again, very little chance of a second date, so really, what's the harm in telling the world?)

“That’s cute.” I respond.

“Really?” He asks.

“Yeah. I feel like I’m in high school. Are you going to take me to the mall for ice cream afterwards?” I ask because I’m a douche that likes to ruin perfectly nice dates with great guys.

When we got to the restaurant I opened my own door again and got out of the car. Oops again. Apparently I’m the reason chivalry is dying.

The restaurant was across the street and there was a step in front of it, so I told him he’d need to hold my hand when we got to the step because cripples and steps don’t exactly get along. But before we even cross the street he starts holding my hand which was sweet, so I had to go and say, “Umm, not now. We’re not at the step yet.” I mentioned how I like to ruin nice dates, right?

Despite my douchiness, this guy continued to be a gentleman and completely charming. Over dinner he told me about his thesis and I could see that he was genuinely excited to talk about it from the look on his face.

“You’re really bored with this, aren’t you?” he asked.

“No, I’m really not.” I told him and I wasn’t lying. Admittedly it took a lot of explanation on his part and a lot of questions on my part for me to start to understand sound engineering and his thesis, but just the way he talked about it made me want to kiss him then and there.


After dinner he gave me his arm while we were walking back to the car which I thought was sweet, but instead of saying so or just keeping my big mouth shut, I made fun of him because, again, I like to ruin things.

As we were driving back to my apartment he tells me “don’t take this the wrong way…”

“No, stop!” I tell him. “Nothing good is going to come out of you finishing your sentence.”

He continues anyway, “I was going to say you’re kind of a pain in the ass.”

Well, he’s got me there.

But then he continues to tell me that he thinks there’s something attractive about that. Oh my God just kiss me now.

As we continue driving he continues to be fun, charismatic, and charming - essentially ruining all future dates I’ll ever have by continuously raising my expectations for all men.

When we get to my apartment he says, “Now you stay there and I’m going to get out and open your door for you.”

“Why? My security guard isn’t watching, so I don’t know who you’re trying to impress,” I tell him because no one ever taught me how to just be gracious and accept when guys are gentlemen.

“So don’t get the door then?” he asks.

“Do whatever you want,” I respond.

“If I can do whatever I want, then I think I’m going to kiss you,” he tells me as I completely melt.

But obviously I can’t just take in the moment and appreciate that the guy I’ve been wanting to kiss all night actually wants to kiss me, so I say, “Today? Here? Umm… I’m waiting.”

Not to be deterred by my smartassness, he leans in and pulls me closer to him and just as our lips are about to touch I apparently decide I haven’t ruined the moment enough so I say “make sure you bring your A game this time because you’re going to get a public review on my blog.”

This still doesn’t stop him and he kisses me and it’s sweet and brilliant and I still haven’t ruined everything, so instead of just enjoying it, I stop and say “Does your mom know what you’re doing in her car?”

“Can you please not talk about my mom while I’m trying to kiss you,” he responds.


So I finally shut up and just kiss him. His kissing was pretty good, but then at one point I think he tried too hard to bring his A game and I had no idea what the fuck he was trying to do with his tongue and I couldn’t help but pull away and giggle.


As I try to cover up my giggles he says “you’re blushing.”

“No I’m not!” I insist. “I’m just pale!”

Then I said something smartassy that I don’t even remember and he asks, “Do you always insult guys who make you blush?”

No. Just the ones I like and want to see again. Clearly I need to ruin this so you never ask me on another date, duh.

Then he opens my car door, and we kiss again. Then he opens the door to my building, and we kiss again.

And then I get in the elevator and kick myself for being a douche. But at least I went to bed smiling. 

The end.

Abbreviated version:
A really good looking, smart man that I met in real life asked me on a date. He was charming and fun, so obviously I couldn’t stop myself from being me and making smartass comments every other second. Despite the fact that I was me, he was still a charming gentleman who raised my expectations for all men and now I am bound to be disappointed with all of the future men I date (as if I wasn’t already disappointed). Awesome.

Lessons Learned:
1.  I’m a pain in the ass.  (Okay, I already knew that).
2. I can’t stop myself from ruining a really nice date with a really great guy.
3. There is at least one charming man in Miami. 

Friday, January 10, 2014

That Time I Went on a Date with the Most Boring Man Alive

My first date of 2014 was terrible.

We’re going to call this guy the Most Boring Man Alive .

He sent me a message on OkCupid and he was decent looking and had a job. While I used to have dreams of falling in love with someone rich and handsome, at this point, I’ll take mediocre and employed. This guy met those two criteria.  I wasn’t exactly thrilled about him because he could barely hold a conversation but I agreed to a date hoping that he might be better in person.

He wasn’t.

He suggested that we meet at a place in Hollywood that claims to make the best burgers in the nation. Obviously I wasn’t going to turn that down. So I drive out to Hollywood after work on a Thursday night (which was super pleasant – nothing gets me more pumped for a date than heavy traffic, terrible drivers, and a touch of road rage) and end up sitting through 2.5 painful hours with a guy who looks nothing like the mediocre pictures in his profile (and not in a good way).

When we get there the waitress tells us it’s going to be at least an hour and a half before we get our burgers and I tell her that’s fine because I am happy to wait to taste the best burger in the nation.

Then my date starts talking and I immediately regret agreeing to wait.

He started off by telling me how he used to be a cop and this year was the first year in a long time he didn’t have to work on New Year’s Eve since he works security now. He tells me that at least he got tons of interesting stories out of it. “Tell me one!” I insist. Silence. Apparently by “tons” of stories he meant “none.”

Okay… Then I ask him to me ANY story. So he starts telling me how when he was a cop in Colorado he had to chase a baby bear. Sounds like an exciting story, right? No. Somehow this guy made a story about an adorable baby bear into a painfully long and boring story. Maybe the lack of enthusiasm was obvious on my face, so he tried to follow it up with a story about how he was involved in a high speed chase. Sounds exciting, right? Wrong again. Somehow a high speed chase story got turned into a lesson about how “not any cop can use a speed gun – there’s a course with 40 hours of training and…” shoot me now.

I begin to tune him out and start to kinda wish that the Upstate NY Lover/Hater from New Year’s Eve would call or text me when suddenly I hear the word “ex-wife.”

I’m sorry, what? How does this keep happening to me!?

I try to change the subject by asking why he moved to Colorado and back. “It’s personal,” he tells me, “I mean, unless you want me to tell you.”

“Nope. I’m fine.” I blurt out.

“Okay, I’ll tell you” he says like he’s giving into my pressure.

No, please don’t. Oh you’re already starting to talk about your ex-wife. Awesome. I got to hear all about how he dated her through college and got married. How she started ignoring him. How he would try to give her love and affection by rubbing her shoulders and telling her she was doing a great job getting her MBA.

“I like tile floors,” I interrupt.

Yep. That’s right. I was so bored with his story about his ex-wife that I decided to just randomly start talking about tile floors because I thought tile floors were more interesting than everything he was saying.

This is my tile floor. I like it. I also like my purple couch. 

“Oh me too!” he tells me. “I have tile floors. Well, I used to. I live with my dad now. I’m not poor, but you know, since the divorce…”

And we’re back to talking about his ex-wife for another ten minutes.


“I like dogs.” I randomly state in the middle of his fascinating story about his ex.

“Oh me too. I have a dog… well, I used to have a dog, but since the divorce…”


Finally he gets off of his ex and starts talking about gun rights. Oh goody. What an amazing first date topic! 
Then he says something about how he thinks only trained professionals should be able to carry guns because otherwise “all these crazy people shoot everyone.”

At this point I may have jumped down his throat about his stereotyping people with disabilities and perpetuating stigma about mental illness and violence. Blah blah blah. I basically just get in my disability rights mode and verbally bitch slap him all over the restaurant.

When I finish he’s dead silent and I’m thinking that maybe he’s processing everything I just told him, but then he comes back with, “Every police department requires officers to go through a psych exam. I’ve taken three psych exams and I’ve never failed one!” 


First, that’s how you respond to my lecture on disability rights? Second, are you bragging about passing psych exams? That’s seriously a bragging point for you?

Oh wait. It gets better.

His next topic?  “What’s your stance on abortion?” Hi, you know we’re on a first (and last) date, right?

Then he tells me he’s not really “in the business of making babies” (did you really just say that?) and he’s not in the position to have a kid right now (no shit –you live with your dad). He concludes with “So I know what I’d do if I got a girl pregnant…” (who the fuck are you getting pregnant? No one is ever going to sleep with you!) “…I’d  make her get an abortion.”

“Except you really don’t get a say in it,” I remind him.

“If it’s my baby I do. I don’t care what they say about women’s rights or whatever.” 

Oh cool. Nothing is sexier than a man who doesn’t respect “women’s rights or whatever.”

No wait – it gets even better, I promise.

Next he tells me, “well, actually, I hope this isn’t a deal breaker for you, but I’m not sure I want kids at all.” You think that’s a deal breaker for me? You think I want to have kids with you now?

Dear Lord let this date end.

My cheeseburger finally comes and I eat it as fast as possible (ps. It’s a good burger, but not best in the nation) and I’m ready to sprint back to my car when the waitress asks “Do you want key lime pie?” Dammit woman! I want out of this date but I can’t turn down pie!

Looks like an average cheeseburger. Tastes like a slightly better than average cheeseburger.

After I eat the pie I’m trying to get out as fast as possible but of course he insists on walking me to my car.
As soon as we get outside he decides to light up a cigarette that smells like the potpourri that my grandma keeps on the back of her toilet. You smell like smoke and my grandma’s bathroom.  Yum.

Then he sees my car. “Oh you have an Equinox!” Yes, I know. I bought it.

“Did you know you have a remote start?”

“Umm. Yeah. I’m aware. I never use it though.”

“Oh I can teach you how to use it!”

Seriously? I know how to press a button. There’s a difference between not using something and not knowing how to use something. Oh my God just go away.

Then he tells me, “I had a really good time with you. This has been one of the most intelligent conversations I’ve had in a long time.”

Umm… I barely talked. You talked about your wife the whole time. I talked about dogs and tile floors, but you’re right, this probably is the most intelligent conversation you’ve had in a while.

I respond by saying “thanks for the cheeseburger.”

“No problem. I had a really good time.”

“Thanks for the pie too.”

“You’re welcome. I had a really good time.”

Okay. I get it. You had a really good time. But I didn’t, so no matter how many times you say it to me, I won’t say it back. Go the fuck away.

“Goodnight.” I open my car door.

“Goodnight. I had a really good time!”

That’s it. I give up. I’ve run out of responses. So I just got in my car and left.

Abridged version:
Decent looking guy online asked out. He turned out not to be decent looking (the internet lies) and was super boring. He revealed he has an ex-wife and told me her life story. His other talking points included gun rights, offensive statements about people with disabilities, bragging about passing psych exams, abortions, and not caring about women’s rights. He also smelled like my grandma’s bathroom.

Lessons Learned:
1. Never agree to an hour and a half wait on a first date.
2. The internet lies about how pretty some people are.
3. My tiles floors are a more interesting subject than anyone’s ex-wife. 

Sunday, January 5, 2014

How Not to Hit on a Girl Who Uses a Wheelchair

Maybe I have just been spoiled. Most of the guys I dated have not been completely stupid and were aware enough to understand what is appropriate and what is inappropriate when talking to me when we first met. 

Now, don't get me wrong, I have always gotten inappropriate questions and comments from guys, but not the ones that I was dating or the ones that were trying to date me. However, in the past year and a half of being single something has changed. Almost every guy who hits on me has no boundaries and no sense of what is appropriate and inappropriate. 

So in an effort to help myself (and as a favor to all you other single ladies in chairs) I've made this video to teach guys what not to do. 

Every single thing in this video has happened to me in real life. And every answer I give in this video are the answers I give in real life. I promise you this is not an exaggeration, though I wish it was. 

Lessons for you to learn:

1. I am pretty. Not for a girl in a wheelchair. I'm just pretty. 
2. I'm not having sex with you. 
3. If you don't know my name, don't ask about my chair. 

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

That Time I Got A Guy To Admit That He'd Like to Have Sex with Bob Barker

I spent New Year’s Eve with my church friends. I don’t go to church, but my friends are young, fun people who go to church, thus they’re my church friends. My church friends consist of girls, gay guys, & one straight guy who is married. It’s actually pretty great because I never have to worry about creepers hitting on me when we hang out.  Plus it’s totally acceptable for me to be covered in more glitter than Kesha in their presence.

When I got to the party I was bombarded with half-hugs and cheek kisses. In Miami there are no personal bubbles. I’m still getting used to it. I no longer jump when they hug/kiss me, so that’s progress, right?

My guess is that this is how it's supposed to go down. 

This is how it goes down with me. 

The one person who did not do this Miami Space Invader move on me was some Italian guy who was just visiting. This surprised me because Italians have no personal boundaries and basically make out with people since they take the cheek kissing thing to an entirely new level.

Italian Style
As surprised as I was, I wasn’t disappointed because I really didn’t want Andrea Bocelli to make out with me. (This was not really Andrea Bocelli because I would make out with that old, blind, sexy man any day. This was just an Italian guy that I called Andrea Bocelli all night.)

Mr. Bocelli said he was touring the US & started in New York, so I interrupted him to tell him that I’m from New York and it’s amazing, and NYC is shit compared to upstate. Then some random guy interrupts me (rude) and tells me upstate NY is shit. Obviously this guy was stupid so I blew him off and decided to demonstrate my incredible Italian skills to Mr. Bocelli. Dove la finestra? (where is the window), desiderio formaggio (I want cheese), tiamo vino! (I love you, wine!). Thank you five years of Italian class! As I was demonstrating my skills, my friend announced that Mr. Bocelli is straight & his family has a vineyard in Italy.

(Straight guy count: 1)

As much as I would love to be attracted to an Italian man who has a family vineyard, I couldn’t get past the fact that his pants were tighter than any pants I own (and I own actual tights) and that he didn’t get my jokes because he spoke English, but not well enough to catch all my witty comments. Nonetheless, I continued talking to him hoping that he’d eventually get one of my jokes instead of giving me blank stares. However, when he told me that he lives in Australia and he’s hit three kangaroos, I was done. I don’t care how many times you tell me that there’s tons of kangaroos in Australia and it was like hitting a squirrel. No. I don’t care. We’re done. Tap out. Stop talking.

This kangaroo wasn't happy with the Italian either. 

By the time Bocelli ruined our conversation we were outside by the fire where my beautiful floor-length red gown was getting a nice smoky scent added to it. When the fire was low Boy Scout came to add more wood. I never actually learned the guy’s name, but I’m sticking with Boy Scout. I assumed Boy Scout was gay because he was at a party with my church friends, but then he seemed a little flirty, so I was confused.

(Straight guy count: 1.5?)

Anyway, it doesn’t matter if Boy Scout was straight or not because I learned pretty quickly that his life goal is to be a complete tool. Mind you, I was drunk and I can tolerate almost anyone when I’m drinking. I usually hate humans, particularly stranger humans. However, when I drink I don’t find them to be all that terrible, in fact, I almost like them. So the fact that Boy Scout was able to make me want to put my head through a glass window was pretty impressive. Boy Scout was the kind of guy that needed to tell me about how right he was about everything. Tell me again how you know all about the Flying Spaghetti Monster when I just made a simple joke about Pastafarianism. The joke was not intended to be a test of your knowledge. It wasn’t even intended to start a conversation. It was a joke. That’s it. Oh, you’re still telling me how much you know about it anyway? Awesome. Let me grab another drink.

The Flying Spaghetti Monster

I got to break away from Boy Scout when the ball dropped and we went down the street to watch the fireworks. As everyone else was kissing, I was just drinking away, happy to be single instead of with all the winners I’ve dated in 2013. Cheers to me! And alcohol! Always cheers to alcohol!

After the fireworks, I continued to cheers myself and alcohol all the way back to the party where I promptly refilled my glass. My dress was soaked in champagne by now since I'm a drunken crippled girl walking with a cup of liquid. Sorry dress. Then Upstate NY Hater approaches me to tell me he’s sorry about earlier and he was just joking. Since he was now professing his love for Upstate NY, I made him talk about seasons, snow, apples, and maple syrup, in that order. I was almost starting to think this guy might be straight.

(Straight guy count: 2.5)

As we were talking some guy interrupted us (rude!) to tell me that I look like Rapunzel from Tangled (never mind, you’re not rude. I love you, let’s get married).  While I was talking to the guy who thought I looked like a princess, some other guy took my Former Upstate NY Hating, Now Upstate NY Loving guy to the couch for some intimate conversation.

(Straight Guy Count: back to 1.5)

Then somehow I got stuck in another conversation with Boy Scout and I was about to throw my forehead into the edge of the counter when Upstate NY Hater/Lover came back and saved the day. He took me outside where I decided we needed to play Kill Fuck Marry. I gave him Lady Gaga, Kesha, & Katy Perry.

He refuses to kill any of them and insists he just wants to play Fuck Fuck Fuck. Fine, I can do that. So I give him Larry King, Donald Trump, and Bob Barker, and made him tell me the order in which he would fuck them. He asks me if he would have to fuck Larry King dead or back when he was alive. Excuse me? This guy seriously thought Larry King was dead. After I educated him on the difference between retiring and dying, he decided to do Larry first, then Donald, and save Bob for last because he thinks Bob would be very encouraging and excited. Pretty solid logic if you ask me.

I'd tap that.
Then I tried to play a drunken version of Price is Right with him but he didn’t know how the game worked, didn’t know what Plinko was, and didn’t understand 90% of my pop culture references. At this point I asked “Has anyone ever told you that they wanted to punch you in the face?” He said no. “Oh, well they probably do. Maybe they’re all just more polite than I am and don’t say it out loud.”

Then I told him he didn’t smell good even though he insisted he was wearing cologne and demonstrated how he put it on. I told him he should make that demonstration into a dance move.

Then he thought Right Said Fred’s most popular song was “Lola” and I flipped a shit because everyone knows that Right Said Fred’s most popular song is “I’m Too Sexy” and that The Kinks sang “Lola,” not Right Said Fred. I expressed my desire to punch him in the face again. It was terrible. I walked away.

To be fair, I also walked away because Spice Girls started playing and I felt compelled to get on the dance floor. Nobody stays sitting when “Wannabe” is on, not even this crippled chick. Oh hell no. I slammed my body down and wound it all around, because when a Spice Girl tells you to do something, you do it!

After rockin’ out to “Wannabe” I got NY Lover/Hater to get on the dance floor, made fun of his terrible moves (if the crippled girl dances better than you, you have a problem), and even got him to do his own version of the “Body Wash.”

If you don’t know what the Body Wash is, please see below. It is one of my absolute favorite dance moves to pull out anywhere. Elevators. The Car. The frozen foods section at the grocery store. Anywhere.

 (In case you were wondering, the intense angry face is mandatory for this move)

Now, he customized his to go with his cologne demonstration from earlier, so it looked more like this:

After dancing he wanted to smoke and so did my friend, so I thought they were going to smoke, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me along. I sat on a wall and my dress got soaked because it had rained earlier. I’m sorry red gown. As they smoked, I continued to make fun of NY Lover/Hater. Then my friend went to get more cigarettes out of her car and out of nowhere NY Lover/Hater kissed me.

(Straight guy count: 2.5 again)

Oh, hello there! Thanks for the sneak attack you secretly straight man! After about 5 seconds, I got bored, stopped kissing him, and went back to making fun of his entire existence. My friend came back, they resumed smoking, and I began proclaiming that I’m a princess.

At 3am I decided I was old and tired, so I said goodbye and one of my friends asked me “So, is he going to buy you a cheeseburger?” (because I regularly proclaim “all I want is a man who can afford to buy me cheeseburgers!”) So apparently others knew he was straight but didn’t give me the memo.

Then NY Lover/Hater walks me outside and tells me he’d love to see me again sometime. I said “only if you like cheeseburgers.” Then he says he’ll get a burger, but no cheese. “Dammit. Are you Jewish so you don’t let your cheese and meat touch? Will you be offended if I do? Cuz this is gonna be a problem if you’re offended by cheeseburgers.” He assures me he won’t be offended and that he likes bacon (okay, so you’re not Jewish), but then he tells me I have “chutzpah.” Wait. I’m really confused, first you’re gay, then maybe straight, then gay, then straight, then Jewish, then not, and now maybe you are Jewish? Not that there’s anything wrong with being Jewish. I have nothing against Jewish people, just people who won’t let me have cheeseburgers.

I go on ranting about everything and he asks me why I’m talking incessantly, so I say “Well, I figured if you wanted to see me again you were going to ask for my number so I was trying to kill some time to help you out since you haven’t done anything.” Then he kisses me again.

Whoa there straight/gay/jewish/non-Jewish/maybe Jewish Sir! I thought you were going to ask for my number, not go all Italian-style on the Miami Space Invader move.

After I got bored kissing him I said “Okay, I’m going home now. Bye.” I started walking away and he asked “aren’t you going to give me your number?” “No, you took too long. I got bored. Goodnight.”  

But he followed me as I got in my car – not in a creepy “I want to kill you” way. Just in a normal, “I’m following you to your car, trying to get your number, but I swear I’m not a stalker” way.

So I gave it to him because I figure he probably won’t actually call me once he sobers up and realizes I spent the whole night calling him uncoordinated, stupid, and old.

And that’s how I spent my New Year’s Eve!

Happy New Year!

Lessons Learned:

1. Don’t wear beautiful gowns to house parties. You’ll just ruin them.
2. Making fun of guys will make them kiss you.
3. Bob Barker would be a great lover.