Even Cupid must have a sense of humor

***Disclaimer: This date occurred several months ago, but I waited the courtesy few months after the guy got the hint (that I wasn't interested) to share this little gem. Even I have a heart.***

I'll keep the back story short and sweet. This guy and I meet online. He lives in Kingstowne, he's 36, and he's a Marine. He's cute, witty, and I have a good feeling about this one (clearly short lived). We keep communication to emailing, gchatting, and the phone for about 2 weeks prior to the first date.

We meet at Coastal Flats, which is near me. I get my way and he drives to me, and I'm glad he does. I would have been pretty fucking bitter if I drove to Kingstowne for what is about to transpire. Just saying. I am waiting outside, and he walks up to me. Ok....I embrace online photos don't always look 100% like the person.....but come on!!!!!

In his pictures, he looked like a tall Tom Cruise (old school, hot Tom...not batshit crazy, jumping on couches Tom). Naturally, I'm thinking he'll be hot in person....but no. He approaches me, and looks as if he had lost 50 lbs. He looks ridiculously skinny....like sickly skinny....like concentration camp skinny.....like coked out Lindsay Lohan skinny....like one of the Olsen twins skinny....like if it had ever come to us getting naked and comparing how many of our ribs were showing, he'd be the clear winner skinny. Awkward.

To top this off, he's wearing exceptionally dorky glasses. Ok look, I have glasses too. I wear them to read. I'm not judging the need for glasses. I think, however, if you aren't wearing glasses in ANY of your pictures online, perhaps it's a bad idea to wear them on a first date.

Anywho, after the hug hello, we go inside to get a table. I was smart and called ahead because I was starving. I give the hostess my name and they tell us to step to the side and wait a few minutes while they get our table ready. While we're waiting, he's trying to make jokes about waiting for things. I can tell he's really nervous. He starts telling this random, yet disturbing, story about when he was little and how he and his family were waiting in line for an amusement park ride or something....how the outside is a line but when you get inside, it's a bigger line to get to the actual ride....something to that effect. In order to avoid waiting in line forever, he and his brothers would get to the front by.....ok...I need to stop and ensure you aren't eating, as this will prompt an immediate gag reflex.....we good? Ok then.....

Marine Man: "My brothers and I would smear poop on our faces so our dad would have to rush us to the front of the line and pretend it was an emergency, and then we'd get on the ride faster"

Me: "Did that just happen? Did you really just say that? Out loud? (internal thought: WHAT THE FUCK?!?!!?)

Marine Man: "What? It tastes like chicken!"

I'm pretty sure he is kidding, but still. Not a funny joke to make.....ever. He says this on a first date. Again, this is a first date, and we're in public. God hates me.

We are now being sat at our table. I'm pretty speechless at this point. He starts asking me about my birthday trip to Vegas, so I figure telling a few Vegas stories is harmless. He gets a salad with his meal. At this point, I deduct that he is not accustomed to eating in nice places. I embrace Coastal Flats is not the Ritz, but you get the gist. He is eating in a pretty sloppy manner, all the while making comments like "do I have something in my teeth...I get so self conscious about eating in front of people". I get the drunken ribeye, because I'm at least going to get a nice steak out of this train wreck of a situation. While we're eating, he brings up the movie we are supposed to go see at the theatre right across the street. I access my iPhone to look up movie times, despite how horribly this is going thus far. I do so for purely selfish reasons....I want to see the movie. You understand. While I'm looking up movie times on my phone, Marine Man takes his phone out and takes a picture of me.

Me: "Really?!?!"

Marine Man: "Yeh...."

Me: "Did you really just take a picture of me at the dinner table? Look, I'm not photogenic. Can you delete that please?"

Marine Man: "You're beautiful, and very photogenic" (Ok. Pay attention, gentlemen. That's not complimentary...that's just fucking creepy)

After he pays the bill, we walk around outside because the movie doesn't start for another 45 minutes or so. It starts to rain while we're walking past the second store, yet he doesn't seem bothered by it. Perfect, weird and waterproof. Score. Ummmm, have I mentioned I have naturally curly hair? WTF! What woman wants to walk around in the rain, anyway?? A few minutes later of walking around in the rain, and he finally suggests this.....

Marine Man: "I know you probably don't want to drive around or you might feel weird, but do you want to drive around for a bit in my car?"

Me: "Nope, sure don't. Why don't we get out of the rain and go back to the bar and I'll get us drinks...how about that??" (if ever I needed a martini....sigh...)

He agrees, we head back to Coastal Flats, and I order myself two martinis at a time. As he is drinking his beer, I'm already halfway done with my second martini. Evidently, I drink heavily in the company of fuckwits. I honestly don't remember how we got on the subject of pets, but he asks me what kind of dogs I had while growing up. I respond that I had a Doberman Pinscher and Springer Spaniel.

Marine Man: "Wow...a German dog... a Jew with a German dog...you don't see that very often!"

Me: "Excuse me?" (seriously?!?!!?!?)

Marine Man: "Yeh...a Jew with a German dog...just not something that happens everyday..." (not at all realizing the landmine he's just thrown himself on)

Me: "And?? Actually I have no idea what one has to do with the other...."

Marine Man: (tries his best to explain how there are no German Jews in existence anymore, though I cannot remember this particular quotable item...I may have zoned out at this point)

Me: "Sooo you're saying there are no German Jews in existence? Seriously? This, coming from someone in the military? Guess they just teach you to point and shoot, and then skip the rest of the other stuff, huh?"

Marine Man: "Well, yeh. Weren't they all killed off?" (I wish I could make this shit up. He really thought this)

Me: (laughs in his face for a few minutes) "Uh no...you're kidding me, right?"

Right before I'm about to publicly humiliate/belittle him, he decides it's best to transition back to being overly complimentary.....because I didn't hear him the 8th fucking time. He goes on about how pretty I am, how I have princess features, and that I have "Disney princess eyes". Really, what do you say to that after being told you emulate a cartoon character. Thanks doesn't quite suffice. Just my opinion.

It is FINALLY time for the movie. And yes, I have already told myself a thousand and one times to just ditch him and go see the movie another time with someone else. I have also already told myself a thousand and one times to see this nightmare thru to the end. The nightmare wins. Who is surprised by this? Anyone???

Shockingly enough, there are no issues in the movie. Of course, movies typically require that there be silence...so this could be the reason why. After the movie, we are walking out and he has the audacity to ask, "so what do you want to do now?"

Me: "Um call it a night....definitely call it a night." (for some reason he's still walking alongside me....ummmmmmmmmmm)

Me: (stopping in the street at this point, mainly because I'm uncomfortable with him knowing what kind of car I drive) "Ok so...is your car over here or what?" (praying he'd get the hint. Sadly, he didn't)

Marine Man: "No, my car is way over there (points to the far away parking lot...this is my nightmare). I was just figuring I'd walk you to your car...is that like me stalking you or something? Should I not do that?"

Me: "Oh no, that's fine. I'm a big girl....PLENTY of lighting in the lot...I'll be totally fine...you can walk to your car from here, no worries..."

Marine Man: "Oh, ok. Well, thanks for meeting me out. I had an amazing time and you're beautiful, and I hope we can do this again and I'll text you tomorrow!"

Me: "Right. Thanks for dinner and the movie....ok cool, see ya!" (is the end near???)

The following day's text goes a little something like, "I really enjoyed meeting up with you last night! You're even prettier in person. I'd like to take you out again if you concur. Happy Saturday!!"

I cannot fathom how the poor guy thought this date went well at all. I seriously can't. I now refer to him as that poor guy because Operation Avoid/Ignore/Pretend you're dead and/or got a new phone number commenced VERY shortly thereafter. You would too if you were me. Don't judge.

The Water Bra Phenomenon

Ever had coupled off friends that spend every waking minute together, and if they find time to detach themselves from their partner's hip, they can be found calling, texting, or otherwise posting love notes on their partner's Facebook wall or via private message? Does it ever make you wonder why they feel the need to do this? We all know it's not healthy. To be 100% enmeshed in each other's lives, to not possess one's own identity anymore, definitely begs the question.....why do it if you know it's maladaptive?

Ever had that friend, male or female, that buys flashy cars, clothes, etc in order to keep up with the Jones'.....but that friend is living paycheck to paycheck? He or she drives around in that BMW or Mercedes wearing that amazing new Juicy Couture outfit, complete with the latest Prada or Coach bag.....all the while swimming in debt.

What about the people who purchase McMansions.....the 9 bedroom, 8.5 bathroom, brick-front house with 5 attached garages in the super swanky neighborhood? They can barely afford their mortgages, but dammit, they will at least act as if they can on simple status principle. Who will ever figure it out, they think.

Overcompensation is a pesky little bitch. We all do it from time to time, for a number of reasons, but these aforementioned examples are definitely some of the more common observations, I'd say. For those of you who have yet to take anything resembling an introductory psychology class, overcompensation is when one attempts to cover up weaknesses or feelings of inadequacy in a life area through a drive toward excellence in another.

This reminds me of those water bras that are advertised on TV. On the outside, to some, the relationship and/or possessions might look amazing...but when you get rid of all the fluff...you will typically find nothing there of substance. If you think about it for a few minutes, I'm sure you can identify with these observations you have probably seen in others, or maybe even yourself.

Historically speaking, human beings need to engage in self-reflection from time to time. This can then lead to self-awareness, which lends itself to the potential for change towards more positive behaviors. This is how we evolve as better people. Embrace it, learn from it, then move on from it. Just saying.

Jersey Shore hair: Not just a fad, but a failure

We've all seen the infamous cast mates of The Jersey Shore. No? Live that sheltered life under a rock? Ok, turn on MTV and you might find a reality show about a group of young twenty somethings staying in a beach house on the Jersey shore.

This future of America...oh boy are they train wrecks. From the trasherrific clothing they wear to the heinous things they say to the way they wear their hair. It even comes equipped with names. Yes, they have come up with names of things they do (GTL anyone??)....and the hair is no exception.

Ladies first! "The Poof" - This is done by taking a section of your hair and creating a bump in front of your head. Not a subtle one, either. The more dramatic the better. This way no one will think twice before assuming you are trying to bring a hairdo back from the 90's, and quite unsuccessfully at that. Please note ladies, just because you see some dumb slut doing it on TV, it doesn't give you license to practice this on your own hair. Ok ok....Halloween is an exception. I'll give you Halloween. And only if you're trying to perfect that Snookie costume. Don't forget to include the whining while you're at it. It clearly worked wonders for her. If your outing doesn't fall on October 31st or a party affiliated with said holiday, however, then just refrain please. You look fucking ridiculous and no one has the heart to tell you. Trust me.

Male version of douche bag fashion! "The Blowout" - This is done by growing your hair out a little bit then literally blow drying your hair in such a way that it sticks up everywhere. You may even use hair gel to get it to stick out everywhere, as seen in the photo I have provided. This unsuspecting Pauly D understudy shown in the photo to the left (iPhone came through once again!) did a fabulous job with his blowout. By fabulous, I mean this idiot managed to get his hair to look somewhat like a helmet with all the hair gel he used. If this doesn't get the panties dropping, perhaps the double ear piercings might? Seriously, who thinks this is a good look? Anybody? Bueller?? Bueller?? Didn't think so.

So, to recap, if you choose to follow a reality TV show and the infamous fads they've created, perhaps you should consult your hair stylist first. I pray that your stylist, at the very least, can be honest with you and ensure you don't end up looking like you belong on Tool Academy. Just saying.

Alias (No, not of the Jennifer Garner persuasion)

Aliases. We all have them, for one scenario or another. Work, life, bar scene when you don't want to give out your real name for fear of someone finding you via the World Wide Web of Sketchy Mcgees. Maybe you're a rapper and your real name is Murray Goldstein, and you don't want to regress to those ugly childhood years when you were teased for constantly having to tote around that awful yamaka on your head....so you change your name to Mr. Big Stuff, because you've gotta live up to THAT stereotype.

One of my favorites is the obligatory stripper alias. Candy, Daisy, Peaches, or that infamous combination of your childhood pet and street name. Frisky Stonewall. Nice, right? Because, clearly sharing that your real name is Tiffany as opposed to Muffin Glenforest is going to do wonders for your tip share, ladies. Wait, do strippers have to share their tips? What if one is more skilled in her trade than the other? Experience, seniority.....ok, ok...I'm getting off track here.

I have been known to use an alias when out at a bar. I've used the same one for the past several years. I don't even know why I do it, it's just something I do when out at a bar with friends. A guy will come up, ask my name, and I will respond with a name other than my own. My friends have caught on to this and some have even used an alias just to be funny (read: obnoxious, bitchy, guarded, jaded?) as well. Clearly, the guy doesn't pick up on the fact that we are giving fake names, but I'm pretty sure he gets some idea that we have no interest in him when we turn around in the other direction after giving said alias. I embrace that simply telling the poor guy we're not interested would suffice just as well, but answering with "Megan", then turning around, as opposed to answering with "not interested" seems to be less effort on my part. Right?

Hmmmmm this brings me to the current task at hand. I will be venturing to Vegas relatively soon, and I'm told I need a Vegas name. Sarcastic bitch is already taken, and I will probably fancy something slightly more inviting, anyway. Suggestions welcome. Just saying.

Mr. No F***ing Way

Okay. Let's suspend reality for a few minutes and pretend that Mr. Right can be found in a bar, grocery store, in a boutique, or maybe at the gym. Now that you have also rendered yourself dizzy from nodding at all of these options, I'm going to confess that I am one of the millions who signed up for one of those online dating sites. I did this a few months ago, secretly hoping to be swept off my feet, albeit electronically. Clearly this did not happen. Anywho, I have since cancelled the subscription due to being inundated with creeptastic emails and receiving winks from individuals who perhaps would be better off trying to get a date from my mom....because they are closer in age.

Evidently, despite my cancelling said subscription, I still get these emails and winks. I assume this is because my subscription has not yet expired. I think I need to learn how to hide my profile prior to this magical expiration date, but I digress. I suppose it's nice to feel the love, and what girl doesn't love attention? Seriously....but this kind of attention, I could really do without.

So last night, I'm playing the delete game with all of these emails and winks, when a combo wild card caught my attention. I use the term combo wild card, because this individual not only winks at me, but decides to send me an email immediately following said wink. Ok, you're interested...I get it. No need to beat me over the head with it. The thing that catches my attention is the subject line of the email: "PRINCESS!"......ok, so this guy gets points for this tactic. The capital letters would get anyone's attention, but the "princess" identifier definitely lures any girl in....so I open this one before deleting it.....and this is what the rest of it said:

"PRINCESS!

Friday night, I'm cooking you a fantastic dinner at my place in Arlington (Courthouse/Clarendon Area). Non-negotiable my love! :)"

I don't even know where to begin with this. Ok, well let's start with the fact that there has been zero communication up until this email he sent me last night. So no talking at all, yet he already plans to cook someone dinner? No. Non-negotiable? Ok, he doesn't know me....clearly he isn't aware that as soon as you start making demands like that, I start zoning out and not paying attention, much like a guy would. Sigh....I finally understand. But wait....."my love"????? Seriously??? I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.

At this point, I can't NOT go to his profile to see what other wackjob qualities this guy has that makes him completely unsuitable for a date with me. SWEET JESUS I HIT THE MOTHERLOAD! Not only is this guy creepier than a serial killer in a tutu, but he does not pay attention to criteria. Oh, this definitely calls for a list....a comparison list, if you will....

1) He's 40 years old. I believe my criteria was 29-37 years old. I realize this is only a 3 year discrepancy, but if you are 40 years old and still perusing online for a date because you don't yet have a wife....do I really need to elaborate on this one? Nonetheless, I call this one a major red flag.
2) He's 5'6" tall. My criteria fancied a gentleman 5'11" or taller. I heart my heels and I like my men a lot taller than me. So, if I'm 5'3" and I'm wearing high heels.....you do the math with that one sweetheart.
3) He lives with "family"????? Oh please, like I need to even state what my criteria is on this one?!?!?! This is NOT Frank the Entertainer's basement, and we are not on VH1. Next.
4) He attended "some college". My criteria required AT LEAST a Bachelor's degree. I have a Master's degree, so naturally I'm going to want to date someone who is well educated. Sort of a no-brainer, yes?
5) His occupation is listed as "other". Ok, let me get this straight.....there are probably 20-30 options that encompass something close to what most people do for a living, yet he can't seem to find one that fits? What the hell does he do? Or does he even have a job? I'm voting for the latter option here. Veto, please.
6) His physical description is "more to love". I'm 5'3" and probably 115-120 lbs. Clearly, I'm a pretty petite girl. I'm not going to comment on this one any further, as you can probably see where I'm going with it.
Icing on the cake!!!) So that email he wrote? Yeh....that is definitely his headliner. IT WASN'T EVEN ORIGINAL! How rude! The only original part of it was the fact that he called me Princess!?!??!

So to recap, this guy is completely unoriginal, short, old, fat, uneducated, most likely unemployed, and seemingly living with mom and dad. Perfect match. Just saying.

The D.O.A. challenge: FAIL

Some people worship God. I have been known to do this from time to time as well, but I'm a much more loyal worshipper of....the chicken wing. Three dollar cafe, Buffalo Wild Wings, Hooters, Buffalo Wing University...praying never tasted so good. Really.

I recently ventured to a local spot to get some wing praying in with some fellow worshippers. The hours were very...happy, if you will. This particular spot is evidently known for their D.O.A. challenge. Yes, that stands for Dead On Arrival, if memory serves me correctly. That's how hot these wings are supposed to be.....they are supposed to make you wish you were dead. Another friend and I had never sampled these delectable death wish drummettes, so we figured we would live on the edge during this particular hour of smiles.

Well, the company we keep usually knows the management staff of wherever we go in some way, shape, or form. We decided to utilize this connection and ask if we could just try one wing, rather than a basket of 6. Clearly that would be overwhelming. After we ordered the wings, our other friends started with their warning deliveries....."Don't do it!"..."Your taste buds will be messed up for at least 3 days!"...."Leave these stupid challenges to us guys!"....and my personal favorite....."The sauce actually has mace in it!"....wait a minute....hold on....the sauce has mace in it?!?!?!? Now that is just uncalled for! Why would someone mix mace in a buffalo wing sauce anyway?

Based on this new information, my equally as adventurous girlfriend and I decided to downgrade our order from the D.O.A. wing to a french fry lightly dipped in the D.O.A. sauce. It came. We tried it. It kicked our asses. It was heinous and I will never be trying that particular buffalo wing sauce, or challenge, ever again. I learned a valuable lesson on this day, one that will undoubtedly serve me well for years to come: Leave the gross food challenges to the guys. We girls can't hang. We bow to thee. And don't forget to pass the water. Thanks.

Dating 101

We've all been on dates.....good dates, bad dates, and then those dates that make you ponder why you didn't just stay home with a pizza and a movie rental instead. Maybe some of my dates had an off night. Maybe they didn't know any better.....or maybe, just maybe, they needed someone to give them blunt, uncomfortably honest, dating tips. I'm not saying girls are completely blameless. There are hundreds of movies and TV shows that reflect otherwise. I, however, do not go on dates with girls....so I can only speak to dating guys, and therefore can only provide said tips to the male persuasion. Sorry girls.

Gentlemen, do NOT repeat the following behaviors. Please note, these are in no particular order of importance:

1) While we are out to dinner with my friends, do not make anti-child comments such as "wow you have 2 kids? That's an investment you won't ever get a return on....well for at least 18 years I'm guessing". You already know my friends have kids and you saying this makes them feel awkward, makes you look like an idiot, and makes me wonder why I invited you in the first place.

2) Try to resist the urge to chew with your mouth open or burp at the table. It's disgusting and it makes me wonder if you lied about being raised in an upscale neighborhood and were actually, in fact, raised in a barn.

3) Do not invite me out to dinner and then at the very end when you ask for the bill, look at me and ask if we are splitting it, citing that I make more than you so it's only fair. Really?!?! Sooooo just so we're clear....YOU invite ME out. YOU pick the swanky restaurant, and now YOU can't afford to pay? Would you have still asked me to split the bill had we gone to Chili's? Because trust me.....I would still have dodged your calls. If you invite a girl to dinner, you pay....the whole bill. I thought everyone knew this one??

4) When we are at a bar, dancing with other friends, do not pull me away from my friends with the claim "you've been dancing with them long enough". This will not bode well for you, as I will laugh at your heinous dancing attempts, then go back to dancing with my friends shortly thereafter.

5) Do not pressure me to drink on our date. I will request we sit at the bar, make friends with the bartender, and I'll be secretly drinking diet soda while you're drinking a double on the rocks with each round. You'll get hammered, hopefully get sick, and I'll leave with another guy who can clearly hold his liquor better than you. Peer pressure...it will NOT be your best friend, I assure you.

6) Do not brag about getting valet parking the entire night, please. We met at Tysons Corner mall, where there are several parking garages, and clearly there is ample parking. You're not classy, you're just stupid. Thanks for playing.

7) Do not make me wait for you to primp for our date. You're a guy. You should be spending way less time on your hair than I do. If this is not the case, we've got more issues than you getting a second date out of me.

8) Do not call me, text me, email me, gchat me, facebook me, and instant message me within one day. Yes, that is 6 attempts at communication. This not only renders me no longer interested and officially scared off from responding again......it makes me seriously consider getting a restraining order.

9) Do not proposition me for sex on a first date...and when I turn you down and give you a look like you've completely lost your mind, do not then proceed to make fun of me and compare me to a middle schooler...as in "Oh c'mon it's not like we're in middle school!" Do I REALLY need to elaborate with this one???

10) Do not call me man or dude when you interact with me. I am not your man. I am not your dude. The last time I checked, I had boobs and a vagina. When we are discussing something and you address me as man or dude, it makes me wonder if you are gay, stupid, or a not so fabulous combination of gay and stupid. Just saying.

Get a clue, Laptop Mafia. Or maybe google it.

It's around 10:30pm and my friend's band is playing. Everyone's having a great time...singing, dancing, drinking...you know the drill. Well, you might know the drill, but the gentlemen that arrived shortly thereafter clearly did not. They show up in full on business attire: the tailored suit, the wing tip shoes, the briefcases, and the item of the hour....laptop bags, with what I can only assume actually contain laptops in them. They show up and take over the dance floor...and by take over I really just mean stand there, looking like fools, in front of everyone. Please note this is not a late Happy Hour. This is not at 5 or 6pm. This transpires at 10:30pm.

My friends and I immediately notice this walking professional cliche. I, of course, refuse to let this go and motion for the perceived leader of the Laptop Mafia to come over to us. This wasn't difficult, as he and his trusty followers were already looking our way. Darwin's weakest link comes over to the group and starts flirting with us, at which point we interrupt him to ask what prompted his group to bring laptops to the bar. I mean really, tell me you wouldn't be wondering the same thing! Were they going to log on and do some occupationally critical computing while my friends are belting out Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" in the background?? Actually, I'm pretty sure he mutters something about them just getting off work, but nevermind that. We are already more acutely focused on one of the other members of their group. This special individual is snarling at us, yelling something, and throwing his hands up for some reason. I suppose maybe he's a tad offended by our antics. Oops? We direct the Laptop Mafia leader to his crazy friend who is making violent gestures and the leader turns around and asks us if we would like some drinks. Now, I'm all for a cute, successful guy buying me a drink.....but these individuals are not exceptionally attractive, and I'm convinced they are the type of guys that wear professional clothing (complete with accessories) to a bar in order to make themselves appear more successful than they are....because really they live in mom's basement and fling hamburger patties for a living. So, in almost unison, we respond with a resounding "No". I think I can safely say no one in my group regretted the decision of turning down said beverage offer. I did, however, suggest that he run back to his group because it looked like his crazy friend needed a drink. I think everyone behaves slightly more favorably in public when they are at least somewhat medicated, no?

This scenario, of course, reminds me of other instances where I thought I was witnessing a deleted scene from Boiler Room inappropriately set in a bar or restaurant scene. There is no logical reason why someone would need to conduct official business within the confines of a bar, Chili's, Panera, Cosi, or God forbid, a McDonald's. Seriously, do they not have an office? If you are wearing a Brooks Brothers suit, sporting Kenneth Cole shoes, maybe a Rolex watch to accessorize, with a Blue tooth strapped to your ear...I feel as though you might be able to afford to store your professional belongings, such as your laptop and briefcase, in a more appropriate place. And if you are already going to be carrying around a laptop bag or man purse alike, has it completely escaped your attention that you might be able to fit a change of clothes in one of those bags? Just saying.