El Date-o with el-Stupid-o

Ya know, maybe I should have read my couple’s romantic horoscope for yesterday and taken it to heart. 

Dear Witty,
Here is your couple’s love horoscope for Friday, June 8:
Mamma mia! Here you both go again. Really, you’d think you would have learned by now, but sometimes certain mistakes are so fun you have to make them twice. Enjoy your folly to the fullest.

See that part where it says “You’d think you would have learned by now….” Well, they’re right. You can’t shine a turd into a diamond, no matter how hard you try.

I was really looking forward to my date with Handyman last night. I’ve been trying to be positive and proactive about pursuing a love life because I’m terribly lonely and terribly lazy and I don’t feel like dating 39 guys in order to find the right one. I just want to date guy and say okay, this is the one, and that’s it. I know it isn’t realistic, but neither is romance.

So yesterday, pretty much all day, I was preparing for my date. It was the hottest fricking day of the year so far, about 95 degrees with high humidity and humidity makes me really cheerful. Yeah, right. Zits all over my nose and chin. Sweat dripping between my boobs. Clearly I was stunning looking from the word go. But I decided I needed to be even more stunning so I went for a rare hair cut here in the Village. I think I just wanted someone thoughtfully caressing my hair over a sink to be honest. I haven’t had a massage for a while and really miss being touched in a kind manner.

The hair cut turned out nice thankfully and then I went and walked around the mall for a while to keep cool. I even tried on some cute shirts that showed my cleavage…what little I have. This one was a deep red/burgandy and looked really smashing against my pale skin but I had just spent almost $20 on my hair and I’m on a very tight budget, so I nixed the shirt.

I then came home and took a short nap with Guardcat. Anytime I lay on the couch that’s her cue to lay on me and purr fitfully and sneeze kitty boogers on me a few times. I then bathed, got dressed and changed clothes like three times. Did I mention I took lots of drugs? Yeah, my sciatic nerve and back were killing me. And here I was going to go dancing. That was the main reason for the nap. Trying to cut the pain off at the pass.

He called at the time he was supposed to arrive and said he was going to be late. At least he called. Better than SOME people (coughCharlemagne) I know.

He finally arrived and was pleasant and he talked to Guardcat who of course immediately ran and hid. We were originally going to walk down to the place since it was only a block from my house, but some big ugly thunderstorms were brewing so we drove.  He paid our way. Wasn’t sure if that was going to happen since I am never sure if I am on a date with Handyman. I mean he’ll say, “Do you want to go to the Blank-Blank Dance” but then he’ll never act like it was exclusive and gee witty, I can’t wait till I see you again. Its more like your nerd brother asking you if you’ll go to his science fair.  Okay, maybe that was just me being insecure.

So we got to the church down the street and it was full of an oddball collection of forty and fifty something people standing around and there was a live fiddle band on stage. Better than a dead one I guess. It felt pretty cool in the building initially, but once we started dancing it was hotter than hell, even after they started opening all the windows during the intense thunderstorm.

So the dancing started. I felt like I had three left feet. I’m not a natural dancer. Handyman was pretty good on his feet though and patiently helped me with the steps and was pretty attentive. I was pretty successful at not thinking about how much pain I was experiencing (ALOT!!) and I was having fun despite feeling like a total dork and I was even suppressing my urge to make jokes about a bunch of people country western dancing missing that sale at Walmart.

I started to notice however, that Handyman was having moo-moo eyes for some curly headed blonde chick named Rita. When we had walked in the place he had told me he might be asking other women to dance with him. It was just how the event worked. I wasn’t thrilled, but I figured I wouldn’t be able to dance every dance anyways, so oh well.

I was really trying to be attentive to him. Be more feminine and physical. Make eye contact. We danced well together. We kibitzed. He let me drink out of his water bottle. But his eyes kept wandering back to the ever lovely Rita.

At the break they had bowls of ice cream in the kitchen area so I went and got some. You know me and ice cream. Wink, wink. By then Handyman was no where to be seen. I had the ice cream and then went to the restroom and came back out. No Handyman. I sat in a chair along the edge of the gymnasium floor for another 15 minutes. No Handyman. And then I realized there was no Rita either.

Can anyone do the math on this one??

I finally gathered up my stuff and went out of the entrance. By then the rain had stopped. As I was walking down the stairs to go home I heard this disembodied voice coming from a patio in deep shadows along the edge of the building. It was Handyman.

 “Are you going? Are you going?”

I don’t exactly remember what I said, or what I wanted to say, but I think I yelled back to him “What do you think?”

I didn’t start crying until I talked to my mom on the phone when I got home. I mean why invite a woman on a date if you already have a woman stashed at an event. He goes to this place every week. I know he knows her. If he wants to date her, ask the fucking bitch. Don’t use me as your “lets make her jealous” beard or whatever the hell I was.

I just don’t think he takes dating seriously. Like that there’s anything at stake like a person’s feelings. Or that a date is a contractual thing in a sense. Like when you’re on a date, you should be giving the person you’re with, your absolute full attention. Treating them special. I mean you did ask them for their time after all. And for god sakes, don’t humiliate them by drooling over other women in such an obvious manner and then go off to some dark undisclosed location with them, leaving your date in a strange place where she doesn’t know anyone.

Bad form, old boy.

So that was my first date of 2007. Yay me!! And it was certainly the cherry on top of a most excellent week!


17 Responses to “El Date-o with el-Stupid-o”

  1. crankygirl Says:

    He’s a bastard and I hope he gets struck by lightening. This is the type of person to whom I would like to send a big stinky turd.

    Just call me Psychobitch.

  2. artgnome Says:

    what a total fucktard. I also have the knack of meeting the most fucked up men on the planet, which is why I have given up on dating all together for now. He should never get another chance with you.

  3. boxx9000 Says:

    I’m sorry the date was not a good experience for you. Did you check out the other men at the dance? There wasn’t ANYone who caught your eye? It’s too bad that the handyman thing ain’t working out because you know what they say about men that are good dancers? (NO! they’re not gay) They say, “good on the dance floor = good in bed” Yep. I’ve heard that and I have to tell you IT’S TRUE!

  4. hil Says:

    I”m gonna kick his ass!

  5. chaosdaily Says:

    your first date of the year.. and i presume, your last date with handyman?

  6. Andria Says:

    Oh, dammit. I hate to say this, because it drove me fucking INSANE when people kept telling me – but you have to dig through the turds to find the diamond. Just don’t give up while you’re dealing with all those jerks. I am beginning to think that I tolerate being in a long-distance relationship just so I don’t have to deal with dating. Good luck, sister.

  7. Pam Says:

    If Handyman were in my neck of the woods, I’d have him communally mooned. He’s a wanker. Hugs.

  8. Kungfukitten Says:

    Augh. You are not allowed to date him again. I’ll work really hard at conjuring a man for you. He’ll be a yippie (yuppie meets hippie) who owns his own line of organic juice bars. In his spare time he likes to give massages calculate astrological charts. His name is Malcolm, he has shoulder length light brown hair, glasses and light blue eyes that remind you robin’s eggs. Keep your eyes peeled for him.

  9. Anne Says:

    I think a lit bag of cat poo on his front step would do nicely!?! Assmunch.

  10. pastlifecarthief Says:

    He’s a total idiot. Can you post a pic so we can make fun of him?

  11. scotvalkyrie Says:

    What an asshat, to treat you so craptastically. May his next yule log slip from the fire and burn his house down. May a bird shit in his eye. May he suffer dysentery not so bad as to go to hospital, but bad enough to keep him on the crapper until his legs fall asleep. And may KFK’s dreamboat come alive for you (although I’m hoping for a metallurgical engineer to spot you at the muffin counter where he buys the muffin you wanted and he shares it with you.)

  12. Klugarsh Says:

    I know that this is going to sound entirely wrong, so please don’t infer any insult here:

    You date the same guys as my mom. Stop it, now.

    This is not acceptable.

    You know, I hear THE swingin’ place to meet great guys is at birthday parties for one-year-olds. True story. That’s where my wife & I met. That is also, amuzingly, where one of her best friends met the apparently inhumanly cool guy she’s with now.

    Of course now that I’ve said it the secrect is out, and the competition will become more fierce… like Cabbage Patch Kids in 1984.

  13. Stepfie Says:

    Hello dear! He’s a twat. So there. s x

  14. karmacat Says:

    What a douchebag. Let’s hope he gets what he deserves.

  15. Seacreature Says:

    Jesus…what a hairy asshole. This reminds me of the dipshits I dealt with in grade school and high school. But they had an excuse, they were young and inexperienced. This guy has no excuse for treating women the way he does. No wonder he’s single, he’s a fucking idiot. GoodBYE mister Handyman!

  16. Spark and Foam Says:

    I can’t say whether he is clueless or an ass, but it’s possible he is both. I’m wishing for a fabulous, artistic, kind, responsible, gorgeous man to enter your life and sweep you off y our feet. XO Violet

  17. warcrygirl Says:

    What a jackass!

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