First Date with Keith Mars, P.I.

I’m sure some of you just read that title and thought wow, the Stucu ladies have gone completely off the rails and are now just casually revealing their dates’ full names on their “anonymous” blog. Next up it’ll be their home addresses and social security #s. I should probably stop reading before they get slapped with a huge lawsuit.

mean girls wild

Source: wifflegif.com

For those of you who don’t recognize the name ‘Keith Mars’, let me assure you that it’s NOT my date’s name. It is, however, the name of an infamous dad slash detective on one of the greatest, most underrated teen crime fighting mystery TV shows (that yes, we’ve gushed about before) of our time. That’s right, I’m talking about my homegirl Veronica Mars and her wonderful, hilarious, brilliant private investigator dad, Keith:

So why have I gone on a tangent about a fictional middle aged TV character? Because, readers, last week I went on a first date with a real live P.I.!

gryffindor-cheering-quidditch-dean-thomas

Source: www.survivingcollege.com

You guys. Stalking/sleuthing/investigating shit/being nosy is honest to God one of my favorite pastimes. Well, I should say our favorite pastimes. As we’ve mentioned before, we here at Stupid Cupid take our stalking investigative skills VERY seriously. L and I always dream joke about opening up a ladies’ detective agency because we’re so fucking good at getting information. TRUE STORY: L once impersonated a college guidance counselor on the phone in order to pump a girl (who we’d never met but who happened to be dating a friend’s ex) for information on her relationship. AND IT WORKED. I mean:

someecards find shit out

Source: www.someecards.com

So when this guy contacted me on Okcupid (I’ll be posting an eHarmony update in the next week but as of today I still refuse to give those crazy bastards my money) and a few messages in revealed that he’s a private investigator, I went from mildly interested to:

buster excited

Source: gifrific.com

Back to the name. Good old Keith garnered this nickname well before I decided to blog about him or frankly, even meet him, for two important reasons:

  • He bizarrely shares a name with H, the guy who I dated and was super into last summer and who it took me a while to get over. Obviously I can’t reveal the actual name to you, but trust me, it is NOT a common name. H1 was the first person with that name that I’d ever met, so when Mr. P.I. introduced himself, I kind of maybe thought someone was playing a prank on me. Saying that name in reference to a different person felt so weird that I knew he needed a nickname, and he needed one fast.
  • In case you forgot/just stumbled upon this blog, we recently started referring to our dates using nicknames. And when I hear the term ‘private investigator’, a certain balding, badass vigilante of the law hailing from Neptune, California who literally walks through fire to save his only daughter inevitably comes to mind:

After messaging back and forth a handful of times, we set up a date. Truth be told I wasn’t totally excited about Keith, aside from the prospect of interviewing him about his job, cases, busts, whether he carried a fake ID/got to taser people,

veronica mars taser

Source: www.sheknows.com

and general tricks of the trade. Besides the fact that he was a P.I., here’s what I knew about him going into the date:

  • He went to Penn State
  • He lives in the suburbs (what is with me and suburban dudes??)

Aaaaand that’s basically it. It should also be noted that this was my first date since my breakup with D two months ago, and my first first date in over six months. Needless to say, I was feeling a bit rusty.

leslie knope cargo pants

Source: www.tressugar.com

We decided to meet for drinks in my ‘hood. The night of our date arrived, and Keith was running late. Like, a half hour plus late. STRIKE ONE. I mean, I’m kidding (sort of), because I know shit happens, but this seems to be a common theme among suburban guys I go out with: they are all SHOCKED that the traffic into the city is bad. At rush hour. On a notoriously awful two lane highway. I mean, am I missing something? How hard is it to leave yourself an extra 20 minutes figuring that you probably won’t be flying down 76 at 6:30 pm? Especially when you’re the one who set the time of our date? FOOLS.

Anyway, I was already salty about the delay, but I tried to brush off my irritation. Luckily the bar was close enough that I could just hang at my place and not awkwardly loiter or pathetically drink by myself until he arrived.

When we finally did meet, it was a classic case of picture fraud. Keith Mars was…not as cute as his pictures. More importantly, to me, he was not as tall (but as we know, ladies, they pretty much never are). He wasn’t bad looking, it was just a bit of a letdown.

I knew within the first five minutes that I wasn’t into him. He was perfectly nice, and not wholly unattractive, I just felt nothing. Zero interest. Zero attraction. Zero connection. The more he talked, the more I thought:

nope

Source: persephonemagazine.com

(What’s that? I use this GIF in almost every post? I don’t care, I fucking love that creeping octopus. You’re welcome.)

I was doing my best not to pounce on him immediately with my list of 900000 P.I.-related questions. As we exchanged standard small talk, I started to realize something: Keith Mars was kind of a bro.

If you have a chance, check out this excellent comic on bro criteria. Do you see the example at the very top? “Still brags about getting wasted years after college”?

DING DING DING DING DING

God, you guys. Keith Mars would not shut up about how much he and his friends “partied” at school. NEWS FLASH, BROS: everyone partied/drank in college. It’s COLLEGE. This does not make you cool or unique or interesting. In fact, as a 30 year old still telling these stories to strangers, it makes you kind of pathetic.

Thoroughly turned off by my date’s troubling brotastic tendencies, I decided to get to the main event. And I will give Keith credit where credit is due: he answered every single one of my P.I.-related questions (and I asked what some might call an uncomfortable number of questions). He didn’t seem annoyed, not even at the end, by my endless curiosity. If anything, he was bemused by my sheer excitement and joy. I feel weird about revealing specifics because, you know, this dude is a private investigator, and I don’t want to be a dick (HAHAHA get it?) but of course I’ll share some general things I learned:

  • His firm works almost exclusively on civil cases, which means entrapment isn’t illegal. According to Keith, you can entrap the shit out of people. He once Catfished a dude on Facebook and posed as a hot girl asking him out in order to get him to show up to a bar. It totally worked.
  • He doesn’t carry a gun or a taser, at least that he would admit to me, but if he has to make a house call that could be dicey, he’s usually working with at least one government bureau that will send someone along with him.
  • He has a few aliases, but no fake IDs (again, at least that he would admit to me).
  • Cell phone fraud is apparently a huge international problem…? And the main case he’s working on. He also does a fair number of insurance fraud, cheating spouse and custody cases.
  • He sometimes works with Homeland Security as well as the Secret Service. !!!!!!!!!!!!!
  • He claims he never does background checks on his dates (I call bullshit, because who wouldn’t), but that he’s done it for friends, and he did it once for his sister’s boyfriend.

swanson

Source: awesomegifs.com

Guys, I was in heaven. HEAVEN. I forgot that Keith Mars was a bro. I forgot that he was three inches shorter than he claimed to be and a half hour late. I left out some other really cool details that he shared with me, just because I feel funny putting it on the internet, and also because, well, he’s a P.I., so I wouldn’t put it past homeboy to find this post. He certainly wouldn’t be the first. Luckily I never mentioned that I had a dating blog, so he wouldn’t even know to look, but still.

Finally, after a solid 40 minutes grilling him about his job, I cut myself off. We went back to chatting about normal things, but it wasn’t as interesting. After we finished our second drinks, I was over it and ready to go home. We left and walked a few blocks in the same direction.

“Well this was a lot of fun,” Keith said. “We should do it again sometime.”

I wasn’t about to be like thanks but no thanks right there on the street, so I think I just said a vague “Yeah, it was nice meeting you, thanks for the drinks”. He awkwardly went in for a kiss on the cheek, I wiggled it into a half hug, and fled.

Well readers, to use the LINGO of those of us in the business, this was an open-and-shut-case. We met, we drank, he bro’d, I pumped him for information, and that was that. Except not really, though, because the Law of Dating Inverses held true: predictably, because I wasn’t into him, Keith Mars continued to text me after our date. I’ve been polite but brief, and I’m just waiting for him to actually ask me out again so I can say thanks, but no thanks, Mr. Mars. To quote a great:

veronica mars

Source: thoughtcatalog.com

Date Rating: 5/10. I was so enthralled by the P.I. stuff I’m seriously considering a career change, but the rest of the date was mediocre. And regarding the bro thing:

dealbreaker

Source: www.tvatemybaby.com

The Hat Trick

Ladies and gentleman, call me Alex Ovechkin, because I just gave the girls of StuCu blog our very first hat trick.

ovechkin-goal-3-1-11-o

That’s right, after getting up the courage to admit to myself, and of course, the blogosphere, that I actually might like Basketbro T, he’s gonna go ahead and dump me Sunday morning, post sleepover at my apartment. 

I mean:

what-is-happening_thumb

https://isthiswhyimstillsingle.wordpress.com/

I don’t know. I mean, is this the universe’s way of punishing us for having a dating blog? (IF YOU ARE READING THIS AND YOU SAID YES, GO AWAY BECAUSE I’M ‘MOTIONAL AND CANNOT DEAL WITH YOU RIGHT NOW). More likely, it’s just an extremely unfortunate coincidence that is so absurdly depressing, it is actually a bit funny. 

s and l whine 5-5-2014 

I mean, over at StuCu, we’re nothing if not dramatic.

So, let’s get right to it and answer the important questions about Dumping #3:

Wait a second, who is this guy? And why is he “Basketbro T”?

In five sentences or less…

He’s a guy I’ve been seeing since the beginning of March. He lived in a hideous suburb 40 mins from DC. Best things about him were: his sense of humor, down to earthiness, and his competence/reliability in making plans. It also didn’t hurt that he was a cutie. Per our new blog protocol, I decided to call him Basketbro T because he loves college basketball and actually writes for a sports blog as a side hustle. I could have picked a more pejorative, alliterative nickname, but because he’s a nice guy, and, at the end of the day, I’m a classy girl, I’ll stick with Basketbro.

That was 6 sentences. Keep it short L; some of us are reading this at work. Now, what went wrong?

Look, I never though this guy was “the one” or anything. In fact, I kept describing him as mediocre to my girlfriends, and while it’s well documented I have a fetish for that sort of thing (and sports bloggers for that matter! Can you believe this is the SECOND SPORTS BLOGGER I’VE DATED? Watch out Kevin Durant, because I’m thinking of just upgrading to straight-up athletes), I knew I could never be with someone who so wholeheartedly did not challenge me at all. And while it was bad enough he lived in the suburbs, Basketbro T also feared and hated the city. I mean, the first time he came over to my apartment, he made me walk him to his car, which was parked a block away, at 2:30 a.m. And I live in a pretty nice part of DC. And I had to put pants AND a coat AND shoes on to walk him out.

really

lawstreetmedia.com

Well, I was determined to get Basketbro over his fear of the city, so last weekend I planned a bar crawl for us through some of my favorite neighborhoods. Thus far, he had taken initiative to plan all of our dates, and I figured, if this was going to work, I was going to need to pull my weight in the planning department. (This is extremely rare, btw, because usually men think “planning” a date involves sending a text saying something like: “What do you want to do? What time is good? Any place you have in mind? What should do I with my life?”)

But when Basketbro came by on Saturday, something was just…different. Maybe it was his body language? Maybe I just have a great sixth sense? 

sixth sense

http://wifflegif.com/tags/25649-the-sixth-sense-gifs

Well, not THAT great, but you get my gist. I immediately knew something was off.

But we went on our bar crawl and he was an enthusiastic participant (for the most part). And, he spent the night. But, when we said goodbye the next morning,  and he got in his car, I just got the feeling I wouldn’t see him again. 

So instead of just walking away, I turned around and knocked on his window.

Basketbro T: (Opens car door) Do you need a ride?

L: No silly, I live here. I just have this weird feeling that this is the last time we’ll see each other and I’d rather just get this conversation over with now than hash it out over text/phone later.

Basketbro T: (Sighs). Yeah…you’re right. It’s just the distance is a little much for me. And I don’t feel like we see each other enough. If I am going to take it to the next level with a girl, I need to see her more. 

L: OK…

Basketbro T: Plus, it feels the spark is kinda fizzling out.

L: That sounds right to me. I kind of anticipated this last night.

Baksetbro T: You’re a good person.  You deserve to find someone who lives closer to you.

L: Thanks. You too. Good luck to you.

Wow. What a mature conversation. So, how do you feel about the whole thing?

The minute he drove away, of course, I called S and cried. Sure, I knew deep down that I wasn’t that into him, and honestly, I probably would have ended it in a date or two for the same reasons. But it sucks to feel rejected, especially by a short, suburbs-dwelling auditor who wore oversize shirts and feared the mean streets of Northwest DC.  I couldn’t help but think:

pathetic gif

https://isthiswhyimstillsingle.wordpress.com/

Also, I was somewhat hurt by the fact that homeboy was about to drive off and probably never contact me again, or send me a two line rejection text in a couple days. He and I had been out enough times that we’d discussed dating and relationships a bit, and I had made it super clear how much I disdained fadeaways and other cowardly behavior. I feel like I shouldn’t have had to demand the explanation I deserved.  

Lastly, I am just disappointed  that this wasn’t what I wanted it to be, which was a fun relationship where both of us were super into each other. Third, fourth, and subsequent dates are SO MUCH BETTER than first dates, and I’d be a liar if I said I was nothing but dreading getting out there again.

But I know, in a few weeks days, my attitude will adjust and that’ll change. And, the good news for you, readers, is that we will have some new stories for you about guys verbally abusing us over frozen yogurt or losing their cars on first dates.

Ugh. This story is kinda dull because you behaved in such a well-adjusted, adult way. Are you sure you didn’t do anything crazy with Basketbro T?

Ah, you know me too well! The previous week, I was carelessly performing a little twitter stalking on my phone between episodes of Pretty Little Liars (#bestshowever #mosthashtagsever) and accidentally FAVORITED one of Basketbro T’s tweets! From my personal account, which is basically, MY NAME. About something completely weird and irrelevant to me. I mean, could I be more of a social media butterfingers? Luckily, S reassured me, before revoking my StuCu social media privileges:

L tweet mistake

 

What made it more awkward is Basketbro T never called me out on it. I don’t know if this is because he never got a notification (I immediately unfavorited it when I realized my mistake) or because he was so weirded out he just wanted to pretend like it didn’t happen.

family guy gif

Icanhasgif.com

Readers, wherever you are and whenever you read this, I encourage you to take a moment and pour one out for the ladies of StuCu and our utterly awkward and humiliating spring season. 

homies pour one out

Think of it as a collective toast to a better summer. For all of us.

Message Monday: Facebook stalking fail

I realize that investigating (online stalking) has been my theme of choice on the blog lately. But after watching Traevon Jackson miss a critical free throw last night and cost the Wisconsin Badgers an NCAA title (yes, I am the blogger who likes March Madness, and yes, S, I put this reference in here mostly to annoy you), I was reminded that even the best of us make mistakes sometimes. Which is why, today, I bring you a message from the archives that demonstrates that even I am not above the online stalking FAIL.

Back in November, during the 2013 season of my life that will forever be known as “man madness,” due to the exciting, unpredictable, and frequent nature of dates back then, I exchanged a relatively boring couple of messages with “M”:

facebook stalking gone wrong PT 1

Sure, he dared bring up the Jewish thing, which we all know I’m not very excited about. But his messages were short and sweet, which I appreciate, and I’m partial to anybody with Philly ties. The real worry I had about M was that he only had one profile picture. And, I learned very early on in the world of online dating, you cannot trust a single picture to tell you what someone actually looks like. So, when M replied with his name, I used his name plus the information from his profile to find him on the internet. So, I went to his facebook profile to see if I could find public photos to get a better sense of what he looked like. Sadly, what it revealed was that he was a conservative republican, and that the picture he used for his OKC profile was taken four years ago. Before I could pat myself on the back for being such an internet sleuth, something terrible happened. Maybe it was because it was late at night and I was tired. Maybe it was because I had consumed one too many hot toddys at a party. I. ACCIDENTALLY. CLICKED: “add friend.”

nick what have i done

FOX / Via reactiongifs.com

OK, OK, “Don’t panic,” I told myself. “There must be a way to cancel the request. And there was. Thank god for Facebook help page. I toggled over the request and pressed cancelled. All good. 

However, several hours later, M messaged me again:

facebook part 3

 

 

slow clap

http://giphy.com/gifs/37Ez5CZ8P0jSM 

What Facebook’s help page NEGLECTED to mention was that if a person still gets email notifications about friend requests, those DO NOT get cancelled. So, how did I respond to being called out?

I didn’t.  I did the mature thing and blocked him on Facebook and on OKCupid.

Can’t win ’em all folks. And here’s some advice from me to you: Do not drink and Facebook.

Confessions of a private investigator: J, C, and me

If you couldn’t already tell, I consider myself a woman who wears many hats. (Not literally. I look terrible in hats. Mediocre bone structure.) But figuratively, I do a lot of things besides my day job. There is blogging, there is book clubbing, there is babysitting, there is some serious Pilates devotion. Am I good at all these things? Not necessarily. But you know one side hobby I’m quite good at? INVESTIGATING. (Some people call it online stalking). Now, I have to give credit where credit is due. I learned 30% of my tricks from Law and Order and CSI Miami, which is why I have conferred on myself an honorary police academy degree.

And, I learned most of my skills from watching this chick:

veronica mars

Via: http://veronicamars-is-smarterthanme.tumblr.com/

Seriously Veronica, I won’t stop it, because you’re a goddess among mortals. For those of you who  were, sadly, deprived an adolescence, that beautiful, brilliant vixen you see is Veronica Mars, star of the self titled UPN series about a teenage, butt-kicking detective. Who my friends and I worshiped, and to this day, strive to be (minus all the near death experiences she has). 

Anyway, here’s the deal with investigating these days. It’s SO FREAKING EASY PEOPLE. I mean, remember how easy it was for S’s current dude to find our blog? 

Usually my investigation into my dates begins and ends with what I like to call “a little healthy googling.” Usually, the guy has shared enough with me via messages and his profile that I can perform an accurate enough google search to find his last name, and from there, perform another google search to learn everything about him. For example, if someone named Harry tells me he works at the World Bank and has 1984 in his username, I just search Harry, World Bank, DC, and, if needed, add the words graduated 2007 or 2006 and see if anything comes up. Once I realize his last name, I perform another search which usually reveals any letters he ever wrote to the editor, an old Myspace profile, his Meetup.com profile, and, if I’m lucky, perhaps some wonderful biography in his college alumni newsletter. Or I’ll get to listen to some wonderful tracks he and his band uploaded to Soundcloud.

Now, please don’t get all Judy Judgmental about “a little healthy googling.” First of all , information is POWER (and safety. You’re welcome mom. Told you I was taking care of myself). I am not meeting these guys through my cousin or mutual friends, I’m meeting them through the internet, a “place” where you can pretend to be anyone you want, including a bisexual Chechen with gastrointestinal problems. I want to make sure the guys I’m chatting with are who they say they are.

I understand that people often associate romantic things with mystery and surprise, but I believe that stuff belongs in the movies, or an at anniversary party you plan for your grandparents.

Now, the only thing about online stalking before your first date is that you learn things your date might want to tell you in a first meeting, such as where he went to college, what he does for a living, what his hobbies are, etc. And, for the sake of the conversation, you need to be able to nod along  as if you’re interested and ask interesting follow-up questions. It’s no good for your chemistry if you act like you know more about his background than he does.

Top-25-Ron-Hermione-movie-moments-24-Wingardium-Leviosa-romione-28675714-245-130

Via: http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/romione/images/28675714/title/top-25-ron-hermione-movie-moments-24-fanart 

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to stalk J,a guy I first went out with in mid-December, before our first date. Every once in awhile, a guy has a  very common first name, and a nondescript job like “analyst at a think tank,” which describes 40% of the men in DC. So, I went into my first date with J blind. Fortunately, the date was super fun. He made a reservation at one of those exclusive little speakeasy places I’d be been wanting to try. And in addition to being really handsome, he was smart and a gifted conversationalist. We talked for two hours, and he asked me out again for a second date before our first date was over. He sent me a couple of texts over the weekend, reiterating what a great time he had, and confirming our date for the following week.

Of course, on the date, J had revealed his undergrad university and his hometown, which provided me with more than enough information to do a Veronica-esque internet search on his background, which basically confirmed all the facts he told me on our first date.  

Or so I thought…

Enter second date, which happened two weeks after our first date due to Christmas vacation. We met up a bar in his neighborhood for drinks, dinner, and another great conversation. I mean, I will admit that while J was interesting and smart, he wasn’t the nicest person in the world.  But, I figured, I was on the market for  a fun date, not like, new candidates for pope.  So I ignored that part of his personality for the time being.  

At the end of the evening, J asked me if I wanted to come over for “a nightcap.”

Now here’s the thing people. I know I talked a bit about how I wanted to run a longer game in 2014. But you should have seen J’s body. I mean, I could see it under his shirt. His button down, preppy shirt. I swear, it was in the neighborhood of this:

ryan-gosling-hey-girl-8

Via primarybeats.com 

So, I hope you will not judge me when I tell you that I said yes to the nightcap. And when we got up to his apartment and he said, “Actually, I don’t even really have any alcohol. We can split a beer if you want.” I stayed. I wasn’t in it for the beer, friends.

So, an hour later, I am using J’s restroom, and I decide to do another investigator move called, “a little healthy snooping.”  Before you get all Jay-Z on me and tell me I’m gonna need a warrant for that, let me explain the parameters of this exercise:

  • Anything in plain view is fair game. Always. If you don’t want me to see your DVD copy of “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” put it away.
  • If I’m staying over, the medicine cabinet and under the bathroom sink are fair game. I mean, don’t you want me to brush my teeth? Change the toilet paper roll? C’mon.
  • Thou shalt not inquire about any prescription bottles that she finds. (Googling prescriptions surreptitiously on your phone is allowed, however.)
  • Never ever ever open any dresser drawers or that bedside table drawer. Just don’t.

Per rule #2, I was staying over and therefore had grounds to access anything in the bathroom. (Don’t you like all my legal jargon? I told you I had an honorary police academy degree!)  PLUS, J had just moved apartments and his stuff was in little boxes all over the floor. And what did I see on top of a box but a hair dryer? Now, J had pretty short hair, so I was guessing the hair dryer wasn’t his. But who knows? Maybe he kept it for guests, or used it to dry his socks? But then I opened the medicine cabinet (ostensibly looking for toothpaste and face wash). And, sitting on one of the shelves was an open pack of Neutrogena Eye Makeup Remover wipes.

My spidey senses told me something was off here. So, what did I do? First, I used the makeup wipes to take the mascara off my eyes. Nobody wants to go to bed with that on. But then, I went back to J’s room and said, “Why do you have makeup wipes and a hair dryer in your bathroom? Did you just break up with a girlfriend or something?”

J looked a little caught off guard. “Uh…yeah…that’s it.  I just broke up with my ex-girlfriend. How did you know?”

“Why else would you have feminine products in your apartment?” I replied.

But then, without missing another beat, J said, “I kept the hair dryer because I might need it again someday. And I use the make-up wipes for camping trips.”

Maybe I was tired. Maybe I wanted to believe him, just for a few hours, because we were having so much fun. But I dropped the subject and we got back to business.

But the next morning, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up. When he kissed me goodbye, and said, “See you later, right?,” I decided to take a stand and not respond like a normal, conflict-averse person. I said, “Listen J. It’s fine if this was just a fun fling, and you don’t want to see me later. But there is no reason to tell me that if you have no intention of calling me again.”

Now, between last night’s investigative plunge into his bathroom supplies and this aggressive statement, J’s spidey-senses were probably going off too. And, while, they may have said, “This lady is CRAY,” they most certainly must have said, “This girl is ON TO ME.” Of course, J, was like, “No, I really want to see you again. As long as you want to see me too.”

When I returned home, I decided to find out a little more about who J’s ex girlfriend was. So, I returned to his facebook page, and examined the public posts on his wall, and who had liked and commented on his photo. I noticed one girl commenting and liking photos again and again. Her name was C. I clicked on C’s profile and what did I find? A picture of her and J, together, arms around each other.

Now, some of you may be thinking:That means nothing. C could be a sister,  a cousin, a friend. But J didn’t have any sisters. And if she was a relative, he was holding her a little too close for comfort. 

Now you still may be thinking: Maybe that’s an old profile picture. But she had just posted it a week ago. And someone had commented, “Is that you two at Christmas?”

Our old friends Benson and Stabler would call this circumstantial evidence. And indeed it was. So I decided to dig deeper. And what did I find? C had a wildly public online presence, complete with a blog, public Instragram, Pinterest, and Twitter account. Instagram featured a bunch of pictures of her and J together. On Twitter, she was promoting some articles J had written. And, on Pinterest, C had a Pinboard dedicated to J, and one dedicated to, presumably, her future wedding.

So, what’s an investigator’s next move? Bring in a trusted team of consultants, of course. I immediately g chatted my friend K and asked her to review the evidence:

k and l chat about j                            

Of course, I reached out to S for a good old reality check:

l AND s DISCUSS J

So what was the result of these investigations? I never contacted J again and he never contacted me either. Maybe it was just a regular old fade away, but I like to think that I avoided an untimely death by a hot, Gos-bodied sociopath.  And, for the record, while C’s obit hasn’t appeared in the paper yet, she has not updated her social media in awhile, indicating a possible disappearance. I mean, when you put all the evidence together, J was one sketchy individual. And, after a careful review of the evidence, even S came to that conclusion:

j serial killer

So cheers to being alive readers, even it’s alive and going on lots of first dates. See you next week, unless J gets to me first.