I have documented on here a few times before that I have the worst luck at dating. If you were to put odds on me to find someone ,like in a horse race style bet, I would be the gimpy horse in the back that would have to be put down at the end of race. That would make me the Barbaro of dating. It’s been 5 years to get over it. Well, this story is just like all the rest. It starts out with a really romantic love story and turns into sheer horror. I do mean that. Horror.
I had been talking with this girl for a few weeks. Just like any other conversation when just meeting someone new, you find out their likes and dislikes. Their favorite color. Favorite cereal. How many people they have slain in the past few weeks. The usual. Our conversations wouldn’t be super long but they would have a lot of substance to them. I was kinda digging her. I know I was digging her until she said the dreaded three words that NO ONE should ever say before meeting. I LOVE YOU!!! What do you do in this situation? Do you continuing talking or do you just blow it off and ignore it. I should have went with option C and get the fuck out of there, but I didn’t. I decided to say the worst two words in the English language after someone says I love you before meeting. You too!!! I will admit I am a dumbass. Looking back at it, if I would have ran, I couldn’t tell this story. Another week goes by and she asks what I was doing on some night. I live a very boring life so the answer is the same as what it is now. A big resounding, nothing. She asked me if I wanted to get together. I don’t know why I put myself in these situations. If I would have said no, I could have been happy lying in bed all day masturbating to pictures of Shakira in socks. Being that this is a story, that means (Big Spoiler here) I said yes.
The night had came. I was about as nervous as a fat kid in the studio audience of a cooking show. I was actually dreading it. I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, that is just not who I am. However, I get walked on a lot. 20 miles worth to be exact. I digress. She shows up at my house. This date was going to be ok. That is what I kept telling myself in my mind. I was wrong on many many levels. She gets out of her car and we meet and a hug is given. This again was one of those hugs, that a woman would give her husband after coming back from Iraq, or a hug a man gets from his new girlfriend after Maury tells him he ain’t a baby daddy. She then proceeds to tell me something that she had graciously left out of the equation. She brought her kids. Let me say this, if you have kids, DO NOT BRING THEM ON A DATE!!!! They oldest was like 7 or 8. It was 9 o’clock at night. The first thing that went through my head is that these kids should be in Pjs waiting to hear The Little Engine That Could. It would have been read in the same voice as Major Payne of course. This isn’t starting off well at all. It’s almost like she is wanting to doom this herself. We talked on the phone and it didn’t occur to her let me know she has her kids. The only way I can curse now is to get a really quick case of Turrets. This is the start of the Red Flags. We might push Six Flag levels with this one.
I told her she could pick any place she wanted to eat. I was thinking we were going to Jonesboro to eat cause they have a nice variety of places. This is before I found out she brought The Little Rascals with her. Instead we go the other way towards her house and stop at the halfway point. She looked at me and asked if we could eat at her favorite restaurant. All you readers sitting at home or in your cars (If you get hurt driving while reading us, so gonna make an ad campaign out of that.) or at your local coffee shop as you stare blankly at the Barista, take a guess where that would be. If you said Chili’s, you need to go back to school. If you said KFC, you would be guessing way too upscale. However, if you said the place with the golden arches, you win a copy of our home game and a year supply of Turtle Wax. Who in the fuck, would want to go to McDonalds on a date? Apparently the crazy women that I like to choose. Everything was ordered of the dollar menu. After, this night and continuing to this very day, I like to refer to the Dollar Menu as The Cheap Date Menu. Nothing says I love you more that watching a woman shove a McChicken down her throat… Not once but twice. There is two dollars that will cause a scar of a mental image to go with me every where I go.
She then asked if I wanted to go back to her place. The answer I should have said, was no. (Spoiler Alert, I am a Fucktard.) She loads her kid in the car. I am standing at the back around her trunk. She pulls this black bag from her trunk and says, “this is for later so we can have some fun.” Hmmm. I know I should have said, Take me home Jeeves. Instead, I am now 40 minutes away from home. Yeah. I am an idiot. I want to say thank for you thinking that as you read this. We get there and I go into her room, she is wanting the dirty dirty to happen. I want to go home and get drunk and forget this ever happened. I realized the next read flag in this situation. Her kids room was right next hers and the door way to their room was through her.’s Not a big problem except there was no door. There wasn’t even one of those curtains pot smoker hang up. There was no buffer. If I were to get it on with her, those kids could walk in and see my ding dong. Granted, when you are hung like a field mouse, it’s not that big of a problem.
I find girls with tats fucking sexy. Yes, you heard that right,if you have awesome tats you earn the Richard Pruitt Boner of Approval. (Single with tats and are interesting in meeting an awesome writer, send your pics and resume to email@example.com) Those tats have to be something that is unique to you and something that know other woman has. This girl asked me if I would be willing to cum on one of her tats. It depended on what it is. I am lonely, don’t judge me. The tat was tacky, I couldn’t help but crack up laughing when I saw it in person. It was a tattoo of the John Deere logo. Fuck that shit. I will not be cumming on your big green tractor and I sure as hell wasn’t going to do it while listening to any fucking Kenny Chesney song.
The final nail in the coffin of crazy chick came just a few moments later. Remember a little bit ago when you read about the black bag. She decided it was time to break this out. The only thing that could have saved this was if she had pulled a rabbit out of it. She didn’t do magic tricks. I am not making this up, you can’t make up stupid shit like this. She said it was time to have a little fun. She reached into the bag and pulled out, Two pacifiers, two baby bottles, and two adult diapers. “I think it’s time we become each others babies.” The quote that will ring in my ears for years and years to come. I thought running would be a great option here. There is not enough booze or ecstasy in world to get me to do that. I went ahead and said yes. I am just fucking with you. I said no, and to get my ass home. Asking me to wear a diaper is more of a third date or marriage kind thing.
She finally found someone to be her baby. I ,on the other hand, am still looking for my crazy non crazy woman. Until then, the dreading dating stage continues.