Wednesday, January 14, 2015
I'm kinda bummed about the two tickets to the Alton Brown show I bought. I stupidly bought two of them back in July thinking that, over the course of eight months, I could surely secure myself a date to this thing. Way too optimistic of me. I'm to the point where I'm not even sure if I want to go anymore. I could still pawn my tickets for face value to someone whose prospects for Valentine's Day, when this show is, are far better than my own.
Last Spring, I somehow received a message on my dating website profile that surprised the shit out of me. She gushed about how good looking I was, which should have immediately thrown up alarm bells because I'm a disgusting looking man, but I instead decided to go with it because it's not something that happens ever and it felt alright to live a lie for a moment. I looked through her profile to make sure she wasn't actually retarded or perhaps blind or anything else that could easily explain why she was interested in me. Nope. Do the preliminary important checks: is she a raging Christian? A mother of three or more at 30? A dog hater? Drug user? Smoker? No on all counts, but she's 36. Her photos suggested that she had a couple extra pounds on her, though. Shit, I'm ugly as fuck, half my body doesn't work, I'm probably nearly retarded myself, and I'm old, so it's not like I've got anything going for me, so a little extra is to be expected. So I stupidly replied, not expecting it to go anywhere because this is likely a joke played by someone who never got past a high school sense of humor. Unfortunately, I did get that reply and, unfortunately, I replied back to that. Turns out this person works a low-paying shit job at a place that manufactures the glass for cell phones because she never bothered to get a post secondary education. I'm still a piece of shit that doesn't get messages on these sites, so it's not as though I'm in a position to turn this down, this is why I registered for these sites, right? Things seem to go well and we decide to meet. I make sure to triple check that she understands that half of my body is useless because it's my nightmare to show up and have that information be a complete surprise. It's derby weekend and the bar by my place puts on one fuck of a party for the horse race, so we decide to meet up for this. I get a whole pizza for this because this party lasts all afternoon and those mint juleps are strong. She steps out of her car with a big cigarette and she's easily three times my size, so pushing four bills, and has a voice like she's been smoking for twenty years, which is entirely possible at 36. Car is a rusted out shitbucket that I'm surprised made it to the state line from Rockford. Alright, I've got a whole pizza and the promise of strong drinks down the street, so let's go with this. I offered pizza, but, no, she can't eat that she's on the caveman diet. Bitch, don't be 400 pounds and pretend to be dainty. The shocks in your car just heaved a sigh of relief as you stepped out. This dainty bullshit ain't going to fly. I've done that before and ain't putting up with it again. Alright, we're getting drinks, strong ones, on an empty stomach. Time to get riggety. A few mint juleps in, I've got to know why she contacted me and lied about smoking and hid the fact that she's White Castle's best customer. "Because you're handsome, you have a good job, you don't live with your parents, you don't have kids, you dress nice and you smell nice. And you're thin." All right, time to dismantle this one. "First off, I'm ugly as fuck. I make children cry. I have a shitty job that pays shit, though far better than a job manufacturing cell phone glass, and doesn't even give me PTO days. And I don't live with my parents? I'm fucking 33, I damn sure hope I'm not still living at home. I live in a shitty small place in Riverwest, my closet is a converted kitchen pantry. I'm wearing a fucking hoodie and flannel lined pants and probably look like a bum. I smell like farts and chode sweat." Yeah, that went well. Fortunately, I had a 20" pizza for myself. Time to update the dating profile to be far more abrasive to stop this kind of situation from happening ever again. I may well be an ugly, stroke affected, retarded piece of shit, but I'm not dating a fat girl again. I put up with that bullshit enough, it's time to actually try getting someone I find at least somewhat attractive.
It was that interaction the was the impetus behind getting me to start working out again. How does that make sense when her primary reason for being interested seemed to be that I was thin? I don't know.
said Tommy T. at 7:35 PM - #
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Last Spring, I somehow received a message on my dating website profile that surprised the shit out of me. She gushed about how good looking I was, which should have immediately thrown up alarm bells because I'm a disgusting looking man, but I instead decided to go with it because it's not something that happens ever and it felt alright to live a lie for a moment. I looked through her profile to make sure she wasn't actually retarded or perhaps blind or anything else that could easily explain why she was interested in me. Nope. Do the preliminary important checks: is she a raging Christian? A mother of three or more at 30? A dog hater? Drug user? Smoker? No on all counts, but she's 36. Her photos suggested that she had a couple extra pounds on her, though. Shit, I'm ugly as fuck, half my body doesn't work, I'm probably nearly retarded myself, and I'm old, so it's not like I've got anything going for me, so a little extra is to be expected. So I stupidly replied, not expecting it to go anywhere because this is likely a joke played by someone who never got past a high school sense of humor. Unfortunately, I did get that reply and, unfortunately, I replied back to that. Turns out this person works a low-paying shit job at a place that manufactures the glass for cell phones because she never bothered to get a post secondary education. I'm still a piece of shit that doesn't get messages on these sites, so it's not as though I'm in a position to turn this down, this is why I registered for these sites, right? Things seem to go well and we decide to meet. I make sure to triple check that she understands that half of my body is useless because it's my nightmare to show up and have that information be a complete surprise. It's derby weekend and the bar by my place puts on one fuck of a party for the horse race, so we decide to meet up for this. I get a whole pizza for this because this party lasts all afternoon and those mint juleps are strong. She steps out of her car with a big cigarette and she's easily three times my size, so pushing four bills, and has a voice like she's been smoking for twenty years, which is entirely possible at 36. Car is a rusted out shitbucket that I'm surprised made it to the state line from Rockford. Alright, I've got a whole pizza and the promise of strong drinks down the street, so let's go with this. I offered pizza, but, no, she can't eat that she's on the caveman diet. Bitch, don't be 400 pounds and pretend to be dainty. The shocks in your car just heaved a sigh of relief as you stepped out. This dainty bullshit ain't going to fly. I've done that before and ain't putting up with it again. Alright, we're getting drinks, strong ones, on an empty stomach. Time to get riggety. A few mint juleps in, I've got to know why she contacted me and lied about smoking and hid the fact that she's White Castle's best customer. "Because you're handsome, you have a good job, you don't live with your parents, you don't have kids, you dress nice and you smell nice. And you're thin." All right, time to dismantle this one. "First off, I'm ugly as fuck. I make children cry. I have a shitty job that pays shit, though far better than a job manufacturing cell phone glass, and doesn't even give me PTO days. And I don't live with my parents? I'm fucking 33, I damn sure hope I'm not still living at home. I live in a shitty small place in Riverwest, my closet is a converted kitchen pantry. I'm wearing a fucking hoodie and flannel lined pants and probably look like a bum. I smell like farts and chode sweat." Yeah, that went well. Fortunately, I had a 20" pizza for myself. Time to update the dating profile to be far more abrasive to stop this kind of situation from happening ever again. I may well be an ugly, stroke affected, retarded piece of shit, but I'm not dating a fat girl again. I put up with that bullshit enough, it's time to actually try getting someone I find at least somewhat attractive.
It was that interaction the was the impetus behind getting me to start working out again. How does that make sense when her primary reason for being interested seemed to be that I was thin? I don't know.
said Tommy T. at 7:35 PM - #
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