Yes, Even My Toes Are Monogamous

Sooo, the date that I had a couple of weeks or so ago.

You know life was too normal to be right, that it went well, AND the dude didn’t irritate me, right?

Uh huh… This is the face of hope hanging on by a thread.


Everything with date itself was actually pretty great. A lame action movie, some hand-holding, some long gazing to rival Spock and Kirk in the newest Star Trek movie. The dude didn’t say anything too weird (except for some hints of a foot fetish), or have any real weirdness to him. A hug and kiss I was not prepared for/expecting by the end of the night, that actually gave me a light giggly bits flutter.

Too good to be frackin true.

So, Faceybook is the devil Bobby. And as usual, it slapped me with some shittake I wasn’t expecting. I’m a-scrolling, FB porchsitting, you know. Watching as life happens internetically (oooh, I like my new word). And I see Mr. GuyDude himself, with, *gasp* another chick on his new profile status saying “In a Relationship”.

That would be my heart if I had actually cared…

That chick was not me. And to add to this dude is sending me texts about another date, possible foot massages, all that shittake mushroom. And I say of course at this moment “Well, GuyDude, how do you plan to do this with a GIRLFRIEND?!” He first says he doesn’t have a girlfriend. So who the frack am I looking at then?

In GuyDude’s version of life: his ex who is suicidal and has tried to kill herself 3 times after he broke up. And since they were friends and still friends, he thought it would help if he just pretended to still be with her.


Everyone, please be on the lookout for a Truck of Stupid I apparently fell off of. It’s dangerous. Shoddy brakes.

What I imagine a truck of stupid looks like. Probably filled with Nazis. And clowns.

Of course I replied with wide-eyed innocence “oh poor girl, poo poo,” and some other such nonsense. And then dropped: but I don’t get involved with guys that are already involved. Period. End sentence. End thought.

Even my footsies are off-limits.

So, there’s that. And so I went back to online fishing and caught myself… A stalker. Shoot, dagnabbit!

I should have known that it was a bad idea to even entertain someone that would call themselves White Chocolate.

It’s like a softer version of Pretty Fly for a White Guy.

Exactly. Shame.

So this dude tells me his life story in like 3 messages. But I ignore the eagerness (or THIRST if I’m using new kids slang-crap that makes sound old) and give the dude my personal contact information. He then proceeds in a 24 hour period to contact me almost every hour. And not just a text, oh no. Each time I get a phone call (which I asked him NOT to do at that time), a voicemail, a text, and then an email on the dating website.

Are we for serious here?

This goes on all night, and then all the next day while I’m at work. I send him a text saying I will contact him after work, hoping that will back him off a bit, but he KEEPS sending messages! When I get home I finally call him to tell him just how much I am irritated by his utter rudeness and clingy-ness.

He doesn’t get it.

I ask him if that’s worked for him in the past with chicks, since it obviously hasn’t if he’s on a dating website (yes, kinda hypocritical since I’m on the same site, but dangit I’m pissed).

And I thought he finally got it, that any interest that I had was gone, especially after blocking him on the dating site… That was about a week or so ago. Today I had sent a nasty message to tell him to stop messaging me “Good Morning Sweetheart. I hope you have a beautiful day.” I would have a frackin beautiful day if he would stop calling me pet names like we’re that familiar with each other, and if he’d just go away!!!

The icing on the cake? He had the nerve to say I should have said something in the beginning, and called me fake.

The sprinkles on top of the icing of this bad moldy cake? I check his profile before I block him… This ahole doesn’t have a job.


Gots to be more careful looking at these profiles. And my Facebook friends.



3 thoughts on “Yes, Even My Toes Are Monogamous

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