You Got Beef? (Part 1)

Yes, there have been cobwebs growing on this blog.  I’m sorry.

However,  it’s impossible to think that after reading about the two idiots I am about to discuss, anyone would ask  “Why haven’t you been dating much?”  To the typical Orange County girl, any beefy guy with a rock-hard body and gainful employment is a candidate for intercourse.  I remember sharing the story of receiving this text message with a dental hygienist, who completely skipped over the fact that he called me dull, and squealed “He said you’re gorgeous!!” Hence, I don’t feel bad about dragging these two fools through the mud in this entry; They are probably both rolling around with some equally vapid woman as I write this.

Beefy Brian messaged me with the ever-so-sensitive screenname “FitGirlsOnly”.  I don’t have a hard time admitting that it takes me about 3 weeks of pure starvation, sweating and misery to lose one blessed pound.  I informed him of this and recommended he look elsewhere.  I suppose he interpreted this as me playing hard to get (which I assured him I wasn’t) because he kept messaging me.

At the time, it was still ski season, and I was looking for someone to go with.  He was also very easy on the eyes.  So I allowed him to take my phone number.

It started out semi-normal.  He was an EMT going to paramedic school, and taught CPR on the side.  He also lived with his mom, although his reasons probably differed from mine, in that I think he was still breastfeeding.  A challenge was that he worked constantly, which I guess you have to when you make eight dollars an hour.  Nothing wrong with that, but I was getting fed up with our pen pal relationship.

The tone of the texts rapidly became perverse.  The only women who’s boobs he got near were probably elderly ladies with chest pain, so I imagine he persisted with the sexually-toned nonsense because he was hoping for fodder for his masturbation sessions.


It got old very quickly.


I knew that wrapping things up with this time-suck needed to be done carefully, as he had arranged for a discount on CPR training for all my coworkers, and I didn’t want him to show up at my place of work running his mouth.  Yes, I used a man from online dating for a discount on CPR. Can’t knock the hustle.

Luckily, he made it easy for me with the following text.  I found it appalling that anyone would send this to a woman for any reason, and his behavior had become a full-blown sham.  I told him to never contact me again, and to go back to driving his shambulance.

WARNING! NSFW and HIGHLY offensive


Is That An E-Cig In Your Pocket, Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

It is always really interesting to see what people come up with for a user name on dating websites. It can really tell you a lot about a person. Some top notch choices who I voluntarily decided to spend time with in public are the following:

  • “ImJustLooking”- no shit….. You are?  You’re looking?  What a change from everyone else on here.  This guy, who I went out with in NYC, was very handsome and quite charming, but spent 50% of his date with me (as well as most of his dating profile) talking about how he was just on for research purposes because his client owned it, and he had a free trial.  Is that also why you tried to put your hands up my shirt at the bar?  Research?
  • “IvyStud”- this one warrants a whole separate post, but that’s for another day. It can be summed up briefly by saying that if your profile photo is of a muscular, 6’3 Asian model, you should expect a woman to be in complete shock when you show up and look like Kim Jong Il.  Not even Kim Jong Un, the young one.  I mean the old guy that died. I don’t care that you went to Columbia, I am just wondering if a communist firing squad is going to take me out if I talk back.

Anyway, I was messaged by Richard, a 35 year old engineer who went by the screen name “TheTotalPackage”.  Clearly a win-win, because he either was the total package, or (more likely) I was going to get to witness some world class delusions of overconfidence.

Richard was handsome, although he had to private-message me his photos because he “Couldn’t be on an internet dating site because his job was high security.”  After talking for a couple weeks, we met up at a place I had never heard of- some sort of pool hall/sports bar where we talked family, careers and life.  After a few rounds of Red Bull (for him) and water (for me), the waitress clearly had enough of our non-alcoholic orders and gave us the stink eye, so we left.

I don’t know why this man decided to extend the date when he had absolutely nothing planned for us to do, nor do I know why I went along with it.  Nevertheless, I found myself sitting shotgun in a BMW SUV, taking a scenic tour of neighborhoods known to be up-and-coming should you be interested in joining a gang.  He had Eminem playing- blasting, actually- and if there is one thing a 35 year old man shouldn’t be doing, it is blasting Eminem while playing air piano.

I must admit one thing: there was a sweetness in the air.

Unfortunately, it was coming from Piano Man Richard’s electronic cigarette smoke.  For the record, e-cigarettes are the #1 douchebag accessory, followed closely by neon wayfarer sunglasses, bluetooth earpieces, and tank tops that show man cleavage.  I developed this list with the help of my friend Cav, and all of these items can be seen simultaneously on males indigenous to Southern California.

Anyway, back to Richard. After circling pointlessly around town, he decided it would be appropriate to stop for a “walk on the beach.”  He continually asked me if I was having a terrible time, and remarked that this was his first date in a while, and I felt badly.  So for 5 minutes I walked, barefoot, on ice cold sand in 40 degree weather before I determined that numb, cyanotic feet trumped bruising the ego of a man who dubbed himself “The Total Package”.

When I left to go home for the night, Richard did the “can I give you a kiss” line that all women hate, because enough with the insecurity.  A number of texts followed, ranging from “I feel like something changed halfway through the night” to questions of when we could go out again.  I politely told him that I was pretty busy in the week ahead.

Nice guy, but I’ll be marking this package “Return To Sender”.