Pic of the Week – Pumping Gas

Before I get to the substance of this post, I would first like to address the unfortunate uptick in the usage of YOLO around these parts. Both of my fabulous co-bloggers have used the term in their recent posts. And though I love them dearly, I would like to officially distance myself from them when it comes to this stupid ass phrase. Under no circumstances do I want anyone thinking that I’m calling this the “summer of YOLO.” 

weevil time to party

Source: http://www.pinterest.com/caridee17/veronica-mars/

Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally on board with and embrace the sentiment behind “summer of YOLO.” Much like S and L, earlier this week I demanded an explanation from the guy I was seeing who faded into oblivion (it was a BS reason), where I previously would have just wondered and obsessed in silence. I’ve tried a bunch of new things this summer, both on the dating front, and in general. I just shun the actual term “YOLO.” And I wanted to make that clear. 

Okey dokey, on to the topic at hand – dating. We haven’t done a pic of the week in awhile. It’s high time we fix this.

The majority of profile pics tend to fall into one of the following categories:

  • selfies (most typically of the bathroom variety);
  • with friends at a bar/party/club, drink in hand;
  • at a sporting event;
  • in formal attire (“____’s wedding!”); and/or
  • doing something outside, most commonly hiking or at the beach.

But we wouldn’t have this blog feature if everyone stuck to that predictable format. Shit would get real boring, real fast. Which brings me to a rarely seen category: dude performing a mundane task.

pic of the week - pumping gas 

Pros:

  • full body shot
  • he knows how to pump gas (I know that seems like an obvious thing people know, but on a road trip with a friend one summer, I went in to get snacks and left him to pump the gas, and he apparently had to ask the guy behind us for help, so I no longer assume)

Cons:

  • not interesting in any way, shape, or form
  • unclear whether this is: his car, a stranger’s car, a rental car, or a friend’s car
  • potentially a shot of him just doing his job
  • not interesting in any way, shape, or form
  • you can not actually see his face
  • not interesting in any way, shape, or form

What exactly is the point of this picture? Both in general and for an online dating profile? Why was this picture even taken? He’s not gassing up the Batmobile or an Aston Martin. It’s a subaru. And nothing against subarus, I’ve owned 2, but no one cares. Despite that, someone whipped out their camera(phone) anyway and documented this happening, and then this dude thought to himself, “you know what would be a great profile pic on OKC – that pic of me filling up a tank of gas!” The only thing this has going for it is that it wasn’t taken in a showroom.

If you’re going to put up pictures of you with a vehicle, at least make it worth my while. Unless it’s one of these beauties, I don’t give a shit:

aston martin vantage roadster

Source: autoevolution.com

two tone pickup

Source: rustfreeclassics.com

HA, those 2 images look absurd together. Don’t worry, I know that the second picture is pretty specific to me. But god I love a pickup. And an old-school two-tone pickup? Heaven. Rustfreeclassics.com is a gold mine for me. (Of course I love something on a site called Rust Free Classics). But I also love that Vantage Roadster. I don’t know how to explain it, but they both do it for me.

You know who drives a sweet truck? My soulmate:

Tim Riggins pickup truck

Source: dearfuturehubby.com

Texas forever man. Texas forever.

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Another unicorn, and another act of bravery

Yes, you are still reading the right blog. Despite our frequent digressions these days into whimsical subjects such as mermaids, unicorns, and valiance, this has yet to become a website focused on writing GoT -themed fan fiction. Though if it does take that direction, I know K would be very proud of us.

So, during my faintly disguised brags about my Balkan trip in last week’s post, I neglected to mention one detail about the trip that would be slightly relevant to this dating blog: I went on the best first date of my life the night before I left for that vacation.

Now, I know I’ve claimed some good dates before. The truth is, most dates are either so mediocre or, so bad, that if I am on a date and we have a great conversation and physical chemistry, I am usually ready to call Columbia Pictures and suggest they make the modern day  romantic equivalent of “From Here to Eternity,” about what just transpired between me and a relative stranger.

here to eternity

http://77days.net/forum/index.php?topic=294.0

But this date truly blew the others out of the water. Really. If I could find a GIF where Deborah Kerr and Montgomery Clift were blown out of the water, I would have used it.

I did have high hopes for this date, because this guy was another unicorn. Not to be confused with S’s Good Message Unicorn, this guy was Good Profile Unicorn (GPU). I actually read his profile and thought, did someone make a fake profile filled with all the things I like? A few excerpts so like-minded ladies can drool…

GPU profile 1

Politics. Seinfeld. Random movie trivia. Sigh. And there is more…

GPU profile 2

 I love Bob Dylan. So much that I even made the ill-advised decision (like many college students do) to hang this over my bed freshman year.

bob dylan poster

Nothing like waking up for 8 am class and looking straight into the eyes of a stoned Bob Dylan blowing smoke into your face.

Anyway, this guy further certified his legitimate fandom by citing his favorite Dylan album, which is actually my second favorite album (Blonde on Blonde is the best. No contest). Plus, in addition to having some good, yet not pretentious, music taste (we’re ignoring the Ryan Adams thing, ok?) he also shared my serious devotion to “Almost Famous” which S and I quote to each other in a completely serious, un-ironic way on a weekly basis. Most recently, this:

Usually walking into a date with high expectations is a bad thing. And people don’t usually live up to their profiles.  But, GPU was BETTER THAN HIS PROFILE. In every single way. I mean, a half hour into the date, he revealed a strong affection for no other than the high priestess of this blog, Veronica Mars.

veronica blush gif

http://giphy.com/search/logan-echolls

He had seen the entire tv series, and could debate with me episode by episode, the characters’ strengths and weaknesses. He knocked my tried and true, Top Three Presidents question out of the park, by naming some of my favorites but offering creative rationales filled with facts I didn’t know. I could go on and on about GPU’s strengths all day, but I won’t, because there is, of course, a more complex story to be told here, and second it is legitimately making me sad.

Anyway, after the date he asked if he could walk me home and I said yes, and he took my hand and even though I abhor PDA, I could not have cared less. And then, a few blocks from my house, he turned and kissed me and my whole body felt like one big firework.

sister act joy

If you have read any of my previous entries on this blog, you know that I am not a romantic person. Nicholas Sparks novels make me gag and I abhor all pastel colors and prom songs. But I am telling you, when he kissed me, I felt like Sister Mary Clarence had just come to the convent and revived our choir. (I mean not because I am a nun. Because that rendition of “Hail Holy Queen” in Sister Act I is the most joyful thing I can recall). Anyway, we went back to my house, where we made out, but did nothing else (please refer to YOLO lesson learned #3 from last week’s post).

Before he left, he waxed poetic about how amazing I was and how “he couldn’t WAIT TO SEE ME after I returned in three weeks” and “ugh, it was such a long time”. But we’ve heard that before. Multiple. Times. So, I shut the fireworky romantic part of my brain up back in the deep dark place it lives, and let my cynical, practical thought process take over. Three weeks were going to pass and he was an attractive, smart, interesting guy who was online dating. It was unlikely I would hear from him again, despite his insistence we see each other ASAP after I got back.

But, when I got back, I gave him a call and we set up a date for a few days later. And that date was similarly excellent, though it did not top the first date. Because I’m pretty convinced nothing could. And he asked me what I was doing the upcoming weekend, and we made plans to see each other. And when he left, he kissed me goodbye and said, “See you this weekend, right?”

Now, as soon as my apartment door closed behind him, I got this weird feeling. And I still don’t know if i should call it general cynicism and fear or if I should call it instinct. But I felt like, wow, things are just going so 100% well. This cannot be real, right? Of course readers, I’d love to tell you my anxiety was misguided, and that all is well.

But instead, I heard nothing from GPU the rest of the week. When the weekend came, I texted him to see what was up:

tom 1

Now, those of you familiar with the world of online dating know that this is probably a lie. I mean,how bad can this cold be? Bad enough to render both your fingers and vocal chords useless so you couldn’t proactively reach out to me to reschedule? Still, I tried to remain optimistic, and I responded with an obligatory sympathy text and some times and dates to reschedule. And then…

crickets

whysoserious.blogspot.com

That’s right. Not a peep from GPU. The same guy, who had declared in my apartment, a few nights earlier, that he “could not wait to see me again.” And for the first time in a long time, I felt RUHL disappointed. First of all, I was dissapointed, because yet again, some guy had told me a bunch of things he didn’t mean. I felt stupid for getting excited about someone, despite my prior knowledge of my own experiences and the experiences of many single women I know, which prove that you really know nothing about a person after two dates (or even 15 dates), and so it’s silly to imagine anything else with him besides the present. And yet, we all do. Because getting excited about the possibility of someone SHOULD be part of the fun of dating, and, not to sound more and more like my sworn enemy Nicholas Sparks, but also the fun part of falling for someone. I was mad at myself for letting my guard down, yet simultaneously pissed that we live in a world so shitty, we need to all walk around with our guard up. Second of all (Oh my god, there’s more?), I genuinely liked this guy and wanted to get to know him better, and I was bummed I wouldn’t get the chance to do that.

After a weekend full of tears comingled with more pleasant summer distractions, I told myself to make peace with the whole thing and just let it go. 

But, then I remembered all the bold proclamations I made on this blog to YOLO. And to call people out when I felt like they were treating me unfairly.

I mean, regardless of what was going on with GPU, I felt like after the dates we had, and the fact that he asked me out again, MULTIPLE TIMES, that he owed me some sort of explanation if he was going to disappear. Veronica would never let someone get away with this.

veronica mars

 

http://sellthekidsforveganfood.tumblr.com/page/2

So, with the courage provided by some booze on a pretty bad date (more on that soon, don’t worry), I reached out to him a couple days later:

tom 2

I mean, believe it or not, the first link is very legit, because we had a very spirited debate about Larry and Piper and OINTB on our last date. (Again. Swoon.) But I didn’t want to send him that text and pretend that nothing weird was going on, so I just put it out there.

Here was his response:

tom 3

Before we give GPU credit for sending a mature, kind message, a few critiques:

  1. Again with the cold. This is 2014, and colds are common as they come, treatable with a variety of drugstore remedies, and do not prevent you from answering a text message.
  2. Don’t act like your moral compass led you “to be honest with me.” I literally demanded you tell me what happened, and then, and only then, did you respond.
  3. This could all be a lie. Like your cold.

Now, let’s put the criticisms aside. And cry, because this is a very decent thing to say to an almost stranger, and he identified such nice, genuine things about me, and, if he’s telling the truth, the timing really does suck. Because, even after a week of thinking about this, I still can’t get GPU out of my head. Look, despite all the complaining I do on this blog, I know I have a pretty good life, relative to most of the world. But at the same time, as I watch my Facebook feed fill with wedding photos of former classmates, and collect baby shower invites on my fridge, I wonder, will I catch a break? Is relationship happiness just a thing other people have, while I’m left to watch my own engagement unravel, and then online date unsuccessfully for over a year?

I realize this post just took a very dark turn, which means it’s definitely time to stop writing, since I intended to pat myself on the back for YOLO-ing, drop the mic, and go watch back episodes of Top Chef on Hulu. 

I mean, the fact remains that I am proud of the way I conducted myself during this brief affair. I was honest about my feelings, and I asked for what I needed. Did I get what I wanted? No. We all know that’s not how life works. (God I hate being an adult.) But there is nothing I wouldn’t have done differently. Except perhaps picked a hipper term for our summer than YOLO (which, according to my hip young colleagues, NO ONE USES anymore unless it’s on ironic bachlorette party tank tops). 

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

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.

Message Monday, or the one about why D has no fun date stories lately

So, dear readers, you may have noticed that I haven’t been posting any date stories lately. And this is a dating blog after all, so what’s the deal? Well. I wish I could say it’s that all my dates recently have been with cool guys and they went really well (and thus weren’t blog worthy). But I can’t say that. The real reason is that I have not had a conversation with anyone worth meeting in person in awhile. Discouraging, yes. Blog worthy, most definitely. So today, we have a Message Monday on steroids, if you will.

These have been some of the recent interactions I’ve had:

1) This fine fellow had messaged me and then talked about the weather (literally). And, at one point, in response to a sarcastic question by me to spice things up, he honestly stated that he thinks the T is great. I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t harbor a healthy amount of hatred for Boston’s public transportation. So I was already losing my patience with this fool. And then, this happened:

are you freaky at all

Excuse me? Topics we have covered so far: the weather, the T, the fact that you like pizza, and a trip you took to Puerto Rico. I don’t even know your name. You know nothing about me thus far, other than the fact that I would like to go to Puerto Rico because I have a friend that lives there. And the first thing you want to know about me is “Are you freaky at all?” Why are questions like this becoming socially acceptable?

2) Casual fun:

casual fun

I … I don’t even know how to respond to that. First, what other kind of fun is there? Second, and maybe I’m wrong, but I feel like what he’s really asking is “are you open to casual sex?” Again, WTF with this line of questioning? Third, emoticons. Sigh. The only thing I’m open to is ignoring you.

3) When a guy sends me a message on OKC, I obviously check out his profile, but I also check out his answers to all the user-generated questions. A quick crash-course in OKC questions. You can answer as many or as few as you want. But you can only see a guy’s answer if you also answered that question. And when you answer, you also indicate which answers you will “accept”, and which answers are “dealbreakers”. Whenever an answer is not one the other person would accept, it shows up in red. Two great examples (from the same guy):

I'm employed full-time

This fine gentleman is unemployed. Times are tough, so you’ll notice that I’m ok with that answer. You will also notice that my answer of “I have a fulltime job” is unacceptable to him. Besides the inherent sexism or the fact that I will never be a housewife or stay-at-home mom (nothing wrong with that, just sooo not me), what exactly is your life plan sir? Because I’m pretty sure if you don’t work, and your partner doesn’t work, that pretty much leaves old refrigerator box down by the river as your only option. Oh wait, this clears things up for me a bit:

I don't live at home with my parents

First – his answer of yes. Like I said, times are tough, so I can imagine scenarios where this wouldn’t necessarily scare me off, but as a general rule living with your parents sets off alarm bells for me. Are you unable to hold down a job, and thus unable to pay monthly bills? Do you have any life ambition? Does your mother still do your laundry? Is it your dream for them to build an apartment over the garage, so you never have to leave home? Etc. Second, my answer, the one that indicates that I’m a fully functioning, self-sufficient adult (haha, I can’t even type that without cracking up) with a job and an apartment, seems to be the opposite of what this guy wants. He wants me to still be living with my parents at the age of 28? I don’t understand. Aside from a whole host of more serious questions about this answer, if you live with your parents, and I live with my parents, where do we go to make out? The car in the driveway? Just – NO.

4) This delightfully hypocritical fellow messaged me. This one isn’t actually funny, it’s just super offensive.

he's a bigot

There’s no way I will date someone who thinks anything other than “it’s all fine by me” is an appropriate answer. There’s not really much else to say about this.

5) Gettin’ Friskay

friskay booty

EWWWW. I feel dirty just reading that. Also, why are you adding extra letters to some words, and eliminating necessary letters from others?

6) This guy sent me a funny message related to my love of the Die Hard franchise (really all things Bruce Willis). But his profile was completely blank, with the exception of 1 picture. Where I normally ignore blank profiles, I decided to find out what the deal was.

blank profile

Why are boys so stupid? This is either 1) a really bad lie, or 2) you’re the kind of person who routinely starts things, but lacks the competence and/or focus to complete them. I’m leaning towards a combination of both, because you’ll notice that this conversation happened back at the end of February. As of 10:03 p.m. on April 7th, his profile is still blank.

7) Motorboat all day!!

motorboat all day

His profile mentioned that he’s in the Coast Guard stationed here in Boston, and his ship routinely patrols down in the Caribbean. I thought it was a totally normal question. What a delightful response. For a number of reasons, this one included, I should know by now to stay away from the Coast Guard. It’s my own fault.

Now – I said that I hadn’t had a conversation with anyone worth meeting in person in awhile. That’s not entirely true. There was one promising guy. C sent me a really funny message and seemed cool. But his profile said he was from Ft. Lauderdale. So I responded, and also inquired as to why he was messaging me up in Boston when he was down in Florida. He answered that he was in the process of moving up here. Ok, made sense to me. No point in meeting people in Florida if you’re going to leave, and why not get a jump on meeting people up in your new city? So the conversation continued, and C asked for my number. I gave it to him, and for a few days we texted (a healthy amount – it’s possible!). Then, this happened (please note the date stamp):

won't be in Boston until May

MAY? It’s early March! What the hell are we supposed to do until then? I mean, he seemed nice and all, but I can count on one hand the number of guys who could ask me out 2 months in advance that I would actually wait for. Sorry to break it to you C, but unless you’re really an undercover Ryan Gosling or Jack Reacher (the Jack Reacher in my head, not the Tom Cruise variety), you’re not on that list*. And I’m not looking for a pen pal either. So while I wouldn’t mind you looking me up when you do finally arrive in this fine metropolis, I don’t have time to chat it up with a total stranger 1,500 miles away for the next 60+ days. I’m super busy re-watching all 3 seasons of Veronica Mars in preparation for the new movie.

*There are technically two other individuals on this list, but a girl’s gotta have a few secrets, right?