About Me

My photo
I'm just a old school metalhead, punk rock chick who is trying to stay sane in the World (perhaps alternate universe) of Internet Dating. Unfortunately, the staying sane is not working very well. I tend to be brutally honest, snarky, and I immediately assume what people tell me is a lie. I am SUPER ADHD so I tend to have this endless stream of consciousness thing going. Oh... And I drink like a fish and curse like a sailor (I make my mother SO proud).

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

"love isn't blind....it's retarded."

(Apparently, that quote is from Two and a Half Men. Pookie posted it as her status, and well... I have no song lyrics or movie quotes that fit this occasion better than that.)

Unfortunately, most of my interactions on PoF has consisted of the following steps:
  1. Receiving an email notification
  2. Logging on
  3. Reading a message that consists of "hi sexi"
  4. Sighing in exasperation
  5. Hitting Delete
I did get one set of messages from a guy from LA that seemed to have a lot of potential. More on that in another blog though. The Biker Boy decided to pop back into my life (I'd love to say more on this matter but I'm simply out of words in regards to THAT clusterfuck. I had a "nightmare" about him where he got all pissed because I was happier to see his dog than him. I believe that says it all!). Buti is still providing brilliant advice (Sometimes you have to look someone in the eye and say "Fuck You" instead of "Thank You"), and I have realized yet again: perhaps I need to adopt some birds and stay single (any guy I date will have to put up with my boys and... well... my boys are a bunch of fucking roughnecks. I actually commented to one guy friend that I have gotten nervous because my life is starting to resemble Boondock Saints!).

I had begun to despair for the blog (cause really... there is nothing interesting going on in my life) and then I received:
I'm new here and profile isn't
finished but wanted to say hi.

This may sound weird, but I've
always been interested in
bondage and I'm looking for
someone who would be interested
in experiencing being tied up I
could practice with.

I'm not looking for sex, just
bondage practice.

IF this sounds potentially
interesting to you, let me know!

I'd love to chat!

Otherwise, take care and I
apologize if you find this
message offensive.


Now... before I go any further, allow me to note this guy was HOT. As an added benefit he was in uniform and can even use proper grammar (all of these things are obviously pluses). However, I am NOT going to let someone I've met on what HAS to be the creepiest dating site in HISTORY practice tying me up (I've seen this torture porn! I KNOW HOW IT ENDS!)! There is a level of trust needed for stuff like that, and considering I don't even know dude's NAME I'm a bit nervous about all that. Needless to say, I very politely declined and explained I am not going to let someone I neither know nor trust tie me up to practice at "bondage".

*sigh*

Btw, I'm more indignant about the "not looking for sex" part than the actual message. lol. Because that screams of "Really... I want to tie you up, torture you, and kill you. But you are disgusting and you couldn't pay me enough to want to sleep with you". Shit like that damages a girl's ego.

Monday, December 6, 2010

When Life Goes Sideways…

I’m sitting here wondering if perhaps I should get permission from one of the people I am about to include in this blog. Lol. He will understand (ok, actually it is more of that old quote “its easier to get forgiveness than permission”). Not to mention… I highly doubt he will actually read this, which is funny because we talk just about everyday and he is one of the few people I truly look forward to speaking with. That list of people I look forward to speaking to is dwindling rapidly, and everything (my life going sideways over the past few weeks) is all tied together. You see, I got completely FUCKED (again) by the Biker Boy (yeah… real shocker there) after going through one of the more traumatic episodes (ok, like 4 days) of my life. Actually, it was more of during. In all honesty, I’m still in the middle of this whole shit-storm, but it has been a while since I have written and I am PRAYING that this brings me enough peace to sleep and not have my heart all screwed up.

I met Buti (yes… I have changed names as usual) a loooooooooong time ago. Even then he was mad cool. He was the guy mother’s warned their daughters about (Ok… all I really remember about him is this ridiculous Byronic Hero vision I had about him, and the fact my mother told me to stay the hell away from the entire family. Oh, and his brother and I had a thing for like 10 years – yup, I just blew that spot to everyone that has know me for a long time). Anyhow, he was that person in my life that I would think about and wonder about (I actually have a couple of them and most of them I have found). He had the most off the wall job (No joke. The scrapes he gets himself into are quite amusing and I get all the stories) and has managed to sustain a life that does not follow any rules (except the rules that could get him put into jail if he breaks them) but his own.

On a whim, I added Buti on FaceBook after he added a friend of mine. Then I started feeling hella-stupid about adding him (I’m A-MAZE-ZING at talking myself out of stuff) and I started wondering when an appropriate time to delete him would be (yeah… not the brightest crayon in the box at times). As I am slowly driving myself crazy about when I should delete him, Buti freaking messages me. To say I was shocked as shit is probably the understatement of the century. I was TOTALLY gobsmacked (Buti and I actually had a conversation about this a couple weeks ago). I was even more gobsmacked about the fact he remembered me (and was STILL talking to me. I was a serious dork during high school). Regardless, I ended up having a “NIGHT” (yeah, one of those where if one more thing went wrong I was going to hurt someone) and being half lit, I messaged him crying.

After that he has kind of become the person I go to when all hell breaks lose because of the absolutely BRILLIANT wisdom he gives me. Not only have I realized that Buti is like basically the “perfect guy” (he is half a world away – seriously, that makes it SUPER hard to get tired of seeing someone. The fact he could not shower and be a royal asshole really doesn’t matter in cases like that. Lol. I wouldn’t have to deal with it. And I'm kidding... I've already teased him about this), but he has also managed to get me to realize a whole LOT of shit about me, and about whomever I date (apparently it won’t be the Biker Boy who magically disappeared after I found out my drivers license was suspended).

I have a REALLY bad case of “Grass is Greener” Syndrome (this is actually a lesson from today) – I’m a geek. It has taken me YEARS to realize that fact, AND to appreciate it (usually). I prefer not to leave my house (I don’t really drink that much anymore, I don’t smoke, and I hate dealing with the “popular” kids), I crochet and knit, I can’t particularly tell the difference idiots from reality shows (but I can ID physicists and real scientists on science shows), I have a habit of saying some REALLY dumb foot-mouth shit without thinking (more on that later) and secretly… I’m kinda jealous of the “cool” kids. At some point this morning I said something about being one of the least cool people Buti knows (he knows some seriously intimidatingly cool people). I’m not going to get into very much detail about the rest of the conversation, but he told me that I was cool in my own right (he gave me reasons why so it wasn’t just one of those pat on the hand kind of conversations) and that the grass is always greener… I don’t know what it is like to be in the situation his friend is in (but thinking about it, parts of it HAS to suck), and for all I know this person would envy my simple “OMG I just bought insanely expensive yarn I’m so excited” pleasure in stuff.

I stay stupid shit ALL the time. Whoever I date needs to accept that and not give me shit about it – One of my favorite things about Buti is that I don’t get all twisted when I say something SUPER stupid to him, because he is never mean about it. He will definitely bust my balls about it (especially if there was an unintentional double meaning) but he is never cruel about it. I have only felt the need to explain myself ONCE and that was because I REALLY put my foot in it.

Whether it is a friend or a boyfriend, things need to be given equally – I would do just about anything for Buti. But he has been there more than anyone (Pookie – you were dealing with your shit and I didn’t want to bother you) else in my life. When shit goes sideways, he is the FIRST person I go to. Even if it is just a message so I can get everything out (I will tell him he doesn’t have to read it if I am just venting). I have given everything I had to a LOT of people who really didn’t deserve it, and who completely abused my trust. I’ve now realized that if there are only a handful of people I trust, that’s ok. I can’t be the only person putting forth the effort, be it monetarily, time wise, emotionally or physically.

I don’t need a boyfriend or whatever to make me happy – I’ve probably said this a million and one times. I don’t need someone with a specific title to make me happy. In fact, the LAST thing I want is for that clingy “drop all the shit you love for the sake of someone” bullshit. I need a partner in crime, an equal, someone who will stand up to me, and someone who can duck faster that I can throw something at them (“Next time, DUCK FASTER!”). I need someone who accepts me for who I am…

I will never apologize for who I am, nor should I have to. And I’m not going to sell myself short for the sake of making others happy (cause seriously… If I have to do shit like that they really aren’t worth my time). It is time for me to take care of myself and the people who truly matter. The ones who don’t give back, can be left behind.

PS. I think one of my smarter FaceBook statuses was “Pondering the choices people make. Are savages those who force themselves to conform to rules they don't believe in, or are we those who are willing to rebel against others notions and live by our own rules, truly free in our lives, our decisions and our lack of regrets.”

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

It's a Nice Day For a White Wedding

In HUGE news today (at least if you are like me and OBSESSIVELY read British newspapers)... Waity Katie is no longer Waity Katie! We will have a royal wedding to turn into a drinking game. I know, you're as thrilled as I am. These are the rules that my former tag team partner and I came up with THUS far. Please feel free to add your own suggestions to the comments and I will update the blog as needed and will give you credit.

Take a Drink:
  • Every time you see a ridiculous hat (you are guaranteed to get plastered off this alone)
  • Every time someone has the look of "OMG! SHE'S WEARING WHITE!?!" (for those who DON'T get this, Kate and William have been living together for a couple years now. So much for the new HRH being a *cough* virgin)
  • drink if Chelsey Davy is there and is staring at Prince Ginger waiting for HIM to propose (CD is His Royal Hotness Prince Harry's now ex. She is GORGEOUS, but they are on and off more than a light switch)
Take 2 Drinks:
  • 2 drinks if it looks like Prince Phillip is imagining a younger woman naked rather than paying attention (The Queen's Hubby ALWAYS puts his foot in his mouth or does something mind-blowingly inappropriate)
Chug:
  • If prince Hot Ginger flashes something inappropriate (even funnier if he looks like he's TANKED!)
  • If Prince Charles has the same look of ABJECT boredom he had during his own wedding

Friday, November 5, 2010

Oh geez... REALLY?!?

There is another blog coming about my love-hate relationship with my phone, especially when dating someone. I'll probably post it this weekend in between sleeping (I don't know WHY I go to Clifton to catch up on sleep. Biker Boy snores, and Fink insists on grooming me periodically throughout the night. Plus I have to wake up BALLS early to catch my train. There is NEVER enough sleep for me there but at least I get my third of a king size bed.), reorganizing my house and pulling my AC out of my bedroom window.

Oh, and one of my ex's and I have started talking again. *waves* Since I know you are bored and probably reading this.

Anyhow... Onto our topic of the day which is "Apparently I need to re-write my profile". How do I know I need to do this?????

Asimtold (<--- I knew I should have deleted the message without reading it as SOON as I saw the name)

"In search of a strong Woman to serve" (Saw it AFTER I read the message)

Hello,i am here in search of finding a strong,demanding,strict Dominate Woman to allow me the opportunity to serve Her.i have always been a dominate man until recently.After i was put in my place by a Dominate Woman,i have since realized i have a desire to be owned and do what it takes to make the Woman that owns me happy and pleased.
Although that includes sex,if She so wishes it,this is NOT a sexual role playing situation i am in search of.i also would like for it to be long term as well.But with both of those scenarios being mentioned,i will settle for the role playing and/or short term.i am new to this,so i'll take what is presented to me to better myself as a slave.
This would be a 24/7 "on call" situation for You.Meaning,if You text/call me at 2am for a massage,i'm on my way;6pm and You just got done a frustrating day and You want to release Your stress out (however You feel the need to achieve that),i'm on my way.Of course,this is all within a few limitations that i have and will be more than happy to go over with anyone interested.
Thank You for time You gave up to read this.

***To those that frown upon this lifestyle and/or "look down" to those that partake in this lifestyle,I ask you to open your mind and not to let society dictate what should be considered "normal".As long as everyone is enjoying what is happening and no one gets hurt in the process {unless it is desire and/or acceptable by the one being hurt-;-)},what is the harm?Just because it doesn't seem right to you doesn't make it "wrong" or "Weird",etc., (WHY the FUCK can't people put spaces after punctuation? That annoys me! Yeah, I know. there is a long list of shit that annoys me and I'm short of sleep)

So here is the message:
Subject: Could i interest You in................

owning me?Please read my profile and consider me for Your use as You see fit.i am in search of a demanding,strict,and Dominate Woman to worship,cater to,and serve as She wishes.Thank You for Your time.


dave



And now we get into my beef of the day. This is a very good looking guy, and I am very tempted to respond JUST so I can kick him in the face with a pair of steel tip boots. Literally. There are sites aimed at Doms/Subs so WHY THE HELL ARE YOU BOTHERING ME ON A DATING SITE!?!?!?!?!?!? My profile specifically says:
I own my own home, I work a damn good job, I pay all my bills on time, I don't expect sh*t from anyone else and I am not the type to put up with dishonesty or games. We are all adults here, but I am still endlessly amazed with the way people act sometimes. I have no desire to be with someone who "needs" me in order to be happy with their life. I want someone who considers me the "icing on the cake of their life", compliments my personality and I would like someone in my life who is an equal. Someone that will be there when it all goes to hell, but also is willing to stand up to me if I cop an attitude.

Where in there does it say that I want a submissive/slave/servant/french maid????? Did I miss something? WTF!?! Better yet I give full disclosure that I am really not interested in fetish stuff (wait... well... not in terms of finding it with a stranger on a dating site. I much prefer to hash out all of that stuff AFTER I make sure dude isn't a raving psycho-twinkie):
I really don't care about your fetishes or whatever and I especially don't want a detailed description of them before you bother to tell me your name. I have gotten some ****ED up messages on here and to be honest, most of them end up on my blog, which currently tends to look like the worst of the worst in internet dating. I'm thinking of adding some of the really cool and really nice (normal) messages I get too. They tend to be few and far between though.

Its 10:30 and I already have a headache...

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

There are VERY few things that make my skin crawl...

I am an ex-carnie. It is something I am fiercely proud of, and also something that has given me a lot of in site into people. It also fueled my love learning about of abnormal psychology. It has also made me HUGELY suspicious of peoples motives, which I guess is a good thing:

From: m******y (View Profile)
Subject: Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 2:09:18 PM


You are truly a beautiful woman. Without being too forward, I was hoping that I might ask for your cell number so we could get to know one another. I am not your typical jerk that is looking for one thing on this site. I want to get to know you, not just your beauty. Thanks. Brian


From: m******y (View Profile)

Subject: Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:13:19 PM


Hey beautiful. If you are interested in getting a couple hundred tonight legally and non sexually for 3 hours of your time, please reply asap. Its a simple and easy dare. Just would need 4 things. Know how to flirt, have a car or can get one, own ankle or knee high boots, and dont mind having a few drinks. Let me know soon please.



From: Hooli-Gin (View Profile)

Subject: RE:Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:17:04 PM


Should I even ask what you are proposing?



From: m******y (View Profile)

Subject: RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:19:14 PM


Just hanging out, having drink around a firepit, acting flirtatious, and dressing however you want and in boots. Thats it.



From: Hooli-Gin (View Profile)

Subject: RE:RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:23:17 PM


The carnie in me sees a catch somewhere in this dare.



From: m******y (View Profile)

Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:23:49 PM


no catch



From: Hooli-Gin (View Profile)

Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:24:48 PM


There is always a catch. Especially when it is termed as a dare.



From: m******y (View Profile)

Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:25:51 PM


jsut act like you are totally into him, simple



From: Hooli-Gin (View Profile)

Subject: RE:Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:27:26 PM


lol. Now you really have to explain this one further.



From: m******y (View Profile)

Subject: RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:28:01 PM


?



From: Hooli-Gin (View Profile)

Subject: RE:RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 10/20/2010 3:30:42 PM


"jsut act like you are totally into him, simple"


Who are you setting up? Why are you setting them up? Why is this worth paying a stranger a couple hundred (as you said) to do?


I have not received a reply as of yet, in fact, the gentleman in question read & deleted the message. And yeah... I may have watched far too many true crime shows but my father always told me "If an offer seems too good to be true, It probably is". I think I just had a very odd near miss.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Yoohoo. I'll make you famous!...

(Sorry... I had to use the Young Guns II reference)

Dear Santa,

I know its been years since I've written you, probably almost 25 years actually, BUT PLEASE don't let a quarter of a century of no communication (and the fact that you were actually my mother) stand in the way of helping me with what I so very badly need! You see... I don't have the money for plastic surgery to make myself more attractive. Please don't write me back with a bunch of Glamor Magazine platitudes about how its whats on the INSIDE that counts and that I will find someone who loves me for who I am not what I look like!


I am ugly. Hideous actually! I desperately need liposuction on my entire body to get rid of all the saddle bags and spare tires and rolls and folds I have from not being able to work out because of my heart problems. Even though I am a 36DD, I need a boob job because they HAVE to be BIGGER AND BETTER AND STRONGER AND FASTER (If you can throw in some tailored shirts for me to cram those bad girls into, and some tee-shirts too that won't get all weird looking that would be fucking AWESOME cause I have enough trouble finding shirts as a 36DD!)!!!!!!! I should be a blond too. With long Pam Anderson type hair, that I can throw over my shoulder as I giggle and simper. Oh! I need a new face too... Maybe like Sophia Loren? No, wait, she's striking, not classically beautiful. Princess Diana? Nope. She wasn't classically beautiful either. Perhaps like Gene Tierney. She is the most classically beautiful woman I can think of, at least right off hand. And make me dumber and needier. Guys don't like girls that are smart and independent, as much as they may complain otherwise.


Believe me, I know I will no longer be me, with the totally crooked nose from when I got jumped in Trenton 10 years ago by nine guys because I refused to back the fuck down when I knew I was in the rights. The crazy hair that seems to defy EVERY stylists attempts to tame it (but that I've learned to love because it takes a LOT of abuse). The body that went through 7+ years of abuse in wrestling & MMA and is still trying to defy a heart that is slowly failing me. And I don't need to be intelligent and self-sufficient, even though both are traits I value and have helped me get through all lot of shit in my life. I don't need to have more balls than brains, because everything will be done FOR me.


You see... I'd rather be the PERFECT, MOST BEAUTIFUL TROPHY than be a strong, independent, striking (I know I will never be classically beautiful which automatically makes me a failure at life) woman. It is too difficult for me to continue inflicting my unattractiveness on people. I am at my wits end.


Please Santa, you are my ONLY HOPE (if you can get rid of the geeky Star Wars references I always make too, that would be bangin'. Seriously, no one likes a geek)!


With Warmest Wishes and Deepest Sarcasm,

Melissa


irony (usually uncountable; plural ironies)

  1. A statement that, when taken in context, may actually mean something different from, or the opposite of what is written literally; the use of words expressing something other than their literal intention, notably as a form of humor.
  2. (colloquial) The quality or state of an event being both coincidental and contradictory in a humorous or poignant and extremely improbable way.
  3. Dramatic irony: a theatrical effect in which the meaning of a situation, or some incongruity in the plot, is understood by the audience, but not by the characters in the play.
  4. Ignorance feigned for the purpose of confounding or provoking an antagonist; Socratic irony.

As I was wandering around Plenty of Fish (I'd LOVE to hack that site and change the name to Plenty of Scumbags however, be that as it may...) I stumbled across this profile Tattooedschmuck. Considering how tired I am of interacting with a bunch of guidos who think they are gods gift, I was pretty thrilled about seeing the following:
About Me
Does anyone really read this? Probably not. This sight is based on visual assumptions. If you look at me, and think i look good, ill get a response. If i dont meet your high standards of visual perfection, i get ignored. its pretty cut and dry. So, if you wanna know about me, and get to know me as a person, YOU write me.

That hits on one of my BIGGEST pet-peeves of PoF. I actually READ peoples profiles, because I prefer to KNOW something about people before I both messaging them. And judging from a LOT of people I have dated, I am not particularly worried so much about how "hot" the person is as whether they are a good person. I've met enough "hotties" both male and female in the wrestling business who are complete and total asshats, that I am not particularly interested in with that bullshit. I live a drama free life because I would rather not land my ass in the hospital. Since this guy did mention something that bothers me about PoF, I thought I'd send him a message even though I usually don't message people. I tend to be far too shy to say anything, and the douche bag quotient on that site is AMAZING. There is also that small fact that I am TOTALLY not interested in DATING this guy (I do have someone special in my life, thank you very much) but I thought he would be cool to bullshit with, as he seems to have a fairly cutting sense of humor like the majority of my friends do.

The gist of my message was that not everyone on the site goes strictly by pictures and I just felt the need to defend those that don't fall under his sweeping generalization. Unfortunately, I sent the message from my phone and it doesn't save it to my outbox, which would have been nice. Especially when I received this reply this morning:
thats touching, really. youre also not the slightest bit attractive. thanks for wasting my time.

The reply I am probably never going to send because it is JUST not worth it to me, but was still EXTREMELY fucking fun to write anyway.
So, let me get this shit straight...
  1. You are a fucking HYPOCRITE, in so much as you invite people to message you "if you wanna know about me, and get to know me as a person" if they think you look good (btw, clearer pictures may help a girl make that decision, but it didn't really matter to me since I am not out trolling for a fuck), but then turn around and insult them. You are no better than those you revile. In fact... you are probably WORSE than they are since they don't turn around and attack people needlessly.
  2. You insulted me while slaughtering most rules on proper grammar (which I find FAR more offensive than the fact you find me "not the slightest bit attractive", cause honestly according to most of your pictures you have no desire to let people see you up close which means the same thing to me).
  3. You thank me for wasting your time when *GASP* PoF has this delightful feature where you can delete messages without reading them. I know. It's fucking novel. Additionally, at no point did you actually NEED to reply to me. You CHOSE to waste not only YOUR time but my time as well by sending that completely uncalled for reply to something that was meant to be light-hearted.
  4. Thank you for living down to your name... you truly are a schmuck in the BASEST sense of the word.
Enjoy your continued search on Plenty of Fish, I truly hope you manage to find that perfect little trophy you are looking for. Unfortunately... those girls are few and far between on this or any other dating site as most of them have already attached themselves to people who are far wealthier than most of us "unattractive" losers will ever be. Namesta!

Btw... these are his pictures for reference:

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

I want my life back...

Over the past couple months I have found myself getting sicker and sicker again, and it is unbelievably frustrating. I didn't think I'd be back in this position, especially not so soon. Medicine isn't working very well, and every idea we have about what is wrong is scarier than the previous idea. And it sucks. I quit smoking. I've tried getting healthier and my heart proceeds to kick my legs out from under me. This blog is usually happy bright and cheery (ok... its sarcastic and bitchy but whatever! My blog. Fuck you!) but I feel the need to repost a blog I wrote about a year ago...

The person who changed my life...

In everyone’s life, there is always someone who completely changes your live. Sometimes it’s immediately upon meeting them, other times it takes a while before their impact is felt. In my case, this person changed my life not once, but twice. He not only changed how I worked in wrestling within hours of meeting him, he also changed how I thought about things years later.

I originally met Diamond Dallas Page four or five years ago, back when all I wanted in my life was to wrestle. Not only wrestle, but to make my trainers proud when they saw me in the ring. I was given the honor of picking Dallas up at a horror convention, not only because I tend to be exceedingly clueless about “names” in the wrestling business, but also because I could care less if someone is “famous”. Fame doesn’t mean anything; it’s the type of person you are that is important.

During the couple hours I spend with Dallas, driving to and from the horror con and at the ECW arena, I was fortunate enough to talk to him about a myriad of different topics. Not only did I get tips on wrestling from one of the best in the business, but Dallas and I also had an extended conversation about something else we had in common (that I never would have guessed)… Yoga. More specifically, we talked about YRG (Yoga for Regular Guys). At that point I was under the mistaken belief that yoga was yoga. Dallas was so insistent and passionate about his form of yoga that I found myself promising I’d try the dvd’s when they were released. I was also fascinated by Dallas’ idea of “Living Life at 90%”.

Months later, after much obsessive checking of his website, the dvd’s were released and I immediately ordered the 3-dvd set (I still have the envelope they came in). The day they arrived I popped in the 15-minute dvd, thinking it would be a good, quick, easy stretch before wrestling practice. God, was I wrong. That 15-minute dvd kicked my ass, and I’d been doing yoga for 5 or 6 years at that point. It became the work-out dvd I recommended to EVERYONE because I had muscles hurting I’d NEVER felt before.

Years passed, I left the wrestling business, started building a life build on a different set of hopes & dreams and occasionally received Dallas’ email blasts. I was fascinated watching someone I consider a true “Jersey Boy” & wrestler change people’s perceptions of yoga. I especially got a kick out of seeing Dallas with our troops. Occasionally, I got my memory jogged when he mentioned “Living Life at 90%” and thinking back to the opportunity I was given to learn from an amazing wrestler and incredible yogi.

And then my world as I knew it was shattered…

In the space of what felt like a matter of weeks, I went from being active and athletic, to being trapped in a body that was failing me with no explanation on why. As many times as I had joked that I have no heart, I found out I did have a heart when, at barely 29 years old, it started failing me. On a good day, I’d feel multiple little flutters that I could push through it. On a bad day, I could be sitting and would “grey out”. I would dread the flights of stairs getting to and from work, in my office building and especially at my house. I use to bound up stairs, but at my worst point I was practically crawling up the stairs.

As the weeks tuned into months, and a diagnosis seemed to get further away with every doctors appointment, I began to lose hope that I would ever get better. At my absolute lowest, I’d reached the point that I was praying one of the arrhythmias would kill me. I could not see why I should continue fighting and trying to go on, when I was constantly being told I was crazy and the heart problems were all in my head. I knew I wasn’t crazy, and I definitely could feel the stutters and racing of my heart (paying attention to my body was something I learned from yoga), but after about the third or fourth doctor telling me there was nothing wrong I started questioning my own sanity. Add to that a feeling that no one really got what I was going through (I’d had friends try to draw parallels to everything from heart burn to pulled muscles, which all go away not get progressively worse), and I was not a pleasant person to deal with.

I received one of Dallas’ emails and something caught my attention (and gave me a mental kick in the ass I needed). Dallas was talking about “Living Life at 90%” again, but the difference was, this time I went to his website and tried to find as much as possible about it. It had been years and my memory was a bit foggier than I care to admit due to what can only be classified as a deep depression. Unfortunately, everything he had was videos and I wasn’t able to watch them at work. The reasonable response to that is “Well, watch them at home”, but by that time I was sleeping like a cat because my energy was spent by the time I got back to my house. So I did the next best thing. I messaged Dallas on MySpace, explained how we met, gave him a brief rundown about what was happening and asked him if he could post some stuff about “Living Life at 90%” on MySpace. Honestly, I didn’t think Dallas was actually running the MySpace, and I highly doubted I’d get any sort of response. Boy was I wrong…

I got a reply less than 24 hours later and I still to this day have it saved in my inbox. Dallas very kindly sending me a copy of his “Own Your Life” cd (that apparently now is included in the YRG set) and while I was very doubtful anything would be able to help me, I figured I’d give it a listen. The day I got the cd, I was attempting to get enough energy to start repainting my bathroom, so I put it in my cd player and hoped I’d manage to at least start cutting in the edges. By the time the cd was over I’d not only finished the cutting in, I’d painted most of the bathroom. I was starting to believe “Own Your Life” could help me at least a little bit. I’d promised Dallas I’d keep him posted on how everything was and if “Own Your Life” helped me.

For a month, that cd didn’t leave my car, and I’d also put it on my mp3 player for my trips to and from work on the train. In fact, the cd was in my car when I went to the appointment with the first cardiac specialist. After 2 appointments, I was completely distraught after being accused of being a drug addict and faker, then finally listened to when I almost passed out when driving. In less than a month, I went from “crazy” to needing immediate heart surgery that may or may not actually help me. I was not comfortable with the situation, and especially with the doctor, so I in a lot of ways subconsciously applied some of the things I’d learned from Dallas. I hadn’t trained myself yet to be able to control my reactions to situations and I barely started to change my outlook on my life. I spoke to people I trusted and made the decision to get a second opinion before I allowed a doctor I hated to shove a six foot long tube up my femoral artery.

It is now almost a year after I’d first emailed Dallas. I know what’s wrong with my heart, I know it can never be fixed, but it can to some extent be controlled by medication and life style changes. Every day is a struggle to adapt to a life that is completely different than anything I’d foreseen for myself. Some days are fine, some are a little bit harder when it comes to my heart. I still tire extremely easily, but now I don’t fight it. I know I’ll have bad days, but I try to concentrate on and look forward to the good days.

The one thing I have heard over and over since my life changed is “I can’t believe how positive of a attitude you have”, especially when people realize the battle I have been fought over the past year. There are things that happen which are completely out of my control and all I can do is control my reaction to them. I started controlling my reactions to things by trying to remember 2 things when everything seems to be going wrong (not quite DDP-isms but way easier for me to remember than “Control your breath” in a pinch): “Fuck It” and “Just let it ride”. I also stopped regretting when things don’t go the way I think they should.

On the long journey of life, that I restarted with a better attitude the day I receive “Own Your Life” from Dallas, I know there will be missteps, and there will be more adversity. But I look forward to facing those trials head on because I know in my heart, that even if I can’t control what happens to me, I can control how I react and how I breathe. I’ve realized so many important lessons in the process of growing from that one simple request for help. Every day I have tried to help others the way I was helped. My only “regret” with this life changing gift I was given was that it has taken a year to finally put to words what Dallas gave me by sending me that cd, but I hope that my hindsight on everything I gained makes up for my previous lack of words.

Hopefully, every step I take, slowly making my heart and mind stronger, is one step closer to being able to do YRG with Dallas next time he is in New Jersey, hopefully one step closer to going head to head with him on 10-second push-ups and one more day when I OWN MY LIFE…

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

There are 52 ways to murder anyone, one or two are the same...

I seriously just got this message 5 minutes ago. I sent it to Pookie on GChat, then realized there was a blog in the making as I ranted:

momie momie i beleive u would look great on my hayabusa its a motorcycle

  1. I'm WELL fucking aware of what a Hayabusa is. I'm a girl. I'm not BRAIN DEAD!!!!!!! And your bike doesn't impress me. *shrugs* Sorry. I hate crotch rockets.
  2. What the FUCK happened to the punctuation? Really... That is just one long run on thought. And perhaps it should have STAYED a thought!
  3. When referring to someone as Momie... AT LEAST SPELL IT RIGHT! Its Mami! EVEN THE FUCKING GRINGA CAN SPELL IT CORRECTLY! (Ok... I can spell it right because one of my ex's called me Mami. lol. Be that as it may, its still not spelled correctly and it creeped me out the way it was spelled.)
  4. Why are you hitting on me when you are from like MIDDLE OF NO WHERE CONNECTICUT?
*sigh* I give up...

Monday, October 4, 2010

This may be more of a headache than its worth...

I don't think that my cousin Les really realized some of the bullshit I deal with on the dating sites (most people don't until they read the blog). I actually got this message on my way to Florida (more on that in another blog) but didn't check it until I got to one of her friends houses.

From: b******4
Subject: Hi Sent Date: 9/25/2010 11:03:28 PM

it would be great to get on my knees and worship the boots of a woman of Your stature! You have so much and You seem better than everyone! You are a true Goddess..it would be an honor to be Your slave

*sigh*

This would be the SAME asshole who said he wanted to lick my boots. Yeah. Now I don't know if I should block him or if I should keep going with it so I NEVER run out of material. Decisions, decisions. And someone PLEASE explain why the FUCK he capitalizes you.

Friday, September 17, 2010

Be careful where you click

I have a REALLY bad habit of clicking on people's profiles on PoF while saying to myself "Hey... that person looks familiar". Most of the time I am wrong. But occasionally things like this happen:
    From: r*****************s
    Subject: Hi
    Sent Date: 9/10/2010 5:29:32 PM

    hey you what r u doin on this site lol melissa

The profile I'd clicked on was one of my friends/drinking buddies. There is this GREAT stalker feature on PoF where you can see who has viewed you. I got SO busted.

And in OTHER humorous goings on... I sent my mother the link to my blog. She was one of the people who encouraged my writings when I was younger. It didn't occur to me that she would have time to look at the blog AFTER my last blog (I figured it would be before). This was her reaction:
    i hope your address isn't available to any of these people. And, it's a good thing I live too far away to come over with a bar of soap!
    Love, Mom

Thursday, September 16, 2010

If I wanted a pussy, I'd go buy a cat!

There is a lot to be said about being mysterious when you first meet people. Laying to much out there can have the opposite effect that you could want. The same with imposing yourself on someone too much. I have gotten a lot of the "Where the fuck did you go" messages from people and in most cases it is because they have said something that makes me want to run screaming.

There is also levels of creep-a-tude. There is "Its nice that you like farm animals in that way, but I'm seriously not interested in Hoof & Mouth disease as an STD", "If this goes too far and then goes south am I going to have to go into witness protection?" (Sound familiar?!? Yeah, I totally should have listened to my intuition on the last one), "You sound WAY too good to be true, there must be bodies hidden in the barbaque pit in your backyard", "Does your girlfriend/wife realize you are trying to meet me to have sex in the backseat of my car" and then there is THIS:

    From: L*******0
    Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:Hi
    Sent Date: 9/14/2010 10:01:43 PM

    did you ditch me? (Seriously?!? *sigh* Since I am reading this on my phone on my train ride home I am just going to ignore this.)


    From: L*******0
    Subject: What happened yesterday
    Sent Date: 9/15/2010 12:03:03 PM

    Did you ditch me? (WTF!?! Do you have ANYTHING TO DO DURING THE DAY OTHER THAN TO BOTHER ME!?! Your first "did you ditch me", which the lack of capitalization is cringe-worthy, made me roll my eyes. But to change the subject line and make it accusatory?!? Yeah, homie don't play that!)

    From: Hooli-Gin (View Profile)
    Subject: RE:What happened yesterday
    Sent Date: 9/15/2010 12:08:23 PM
    No. I left work late, my commute is over an hour each way, I got home and I needed to take care of my house therefore I wasn't online.

    From: L*******0
    Subject: RE:RE:What happened yesterday
    Sent Date: 9/15/2010 12:36:58 PM

    Fair enough. Well hopefully you're up for talking soon. (Really? You just felt the need to give me PERMISSION to act like a responsible adult?!? My MOTHER doesn't even have the invisi-balls to pull shit like that. You are so jacked up on steroids in your profile pictures that I'm 99.999% sure that the pretty miniature pink glitter Christmas balls I have on my Christmas tree at home are bigger than your set!)


    From: L*******0
    Subject: When are we going to chat
    Sent Date: 9/15/2010 11:24:01 PM

    I didn't see you on Y!ahoo :( (probably cause you don't have my yahoo screen name asshat)


    From: L*******0
    Subject: Hi
    Sent Date: 9/16/2010 12:33:53 PM

    Not talking to me now? (Not at all! But now I am planning a blog in your honor! To tell the world what a fucking jackass you are!)

    From: Hooli-Gin (View Profile)
    Subject: RE:Hi
    Sent Date: 9/16/2010 12:37:13 PM

    Been busy at work. My life revolves around working and doing my job, not talking to people. (ok... anyone who knows me well knows I actually do BOTH!)

And this is my gift to you, dear readers... Needless to say this gentleman will be getting blocked and I will HAPPILY walk away from him, for no other reason than his true colors are showing and I've known him for less than 2 days.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Hell Hath no fury...

I wonder how often he edits his profile? lol.

Eject! Eject! Eject!

So close... and yet so far.

From: G********8
Subject: hello Sent Date: 9/11/2010 5:00:00 PM


So what hold would u use to get me to tap (Oh god! Please let this NOT be a variation of "Hey baby! Wanna wrestle? I'll let you win." Seriously. That is the oldest wrestling pick up line and honestly? All it does is annoy me. But I'll give him a chance. Maybe it was a bit of fight humor from a guy who was to shy to say anything else.)


From: Hooli-Gin
Subject: RE:hello Sent Date: 9/13/2010 9:40:08 AM


lol. Idk. I really wasn't into submissions when I wrestled. Was more of brute strength and using my height to my advantage.

Mel


From: G********8
Subject: RE:RE:hello Sent Date: 9/13/2010 9:46:46 AM


Nice! know any martial arts? sound like you like impact (Thank GOD! He actually sounds NORMAL. And the grammar nazi is totally not having to come out. He is totally not cute, but you know? that's cool because I'd much rather have someone I get along with.)


From: Hooli-Gin
Subject: RE:RE:RE:hello Sent Date: 9/13/2010 9:51:27 AM


I started training to do MMA but unfortunately the nerve damage I have from wrestling and the heart problems I have have sidelined training for a while. I want to get back into MMA, but I have to do it a little bit more slowly than I'd like.

How bout you? what forms of martial arts have you trained in?


From: G********8
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:hello Sent Date: 9/13/2010 9:53:05 AM


you can try out the chokes on me (Oh Christ... this is about to go sideways isn't it?!?) :-). You sound like u have a little darkside to you. (Who the hell do you think I am?!? Darth Vader?????) have amy (?!?) other pics? (there are 8 pictures on my profile! What?!? Do you think I am going to send you pictures of my tits?) care to chat?


From: G********8
Subject: interests Sent Date: 9/13/2010 10:02:10 AM


are you dominant or submissive or both (FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!! EJECT! EJECT! EJECT! *a large explosion is heard as the conversation rapidly self destructs*)

Monday, September 13, 2010

I have no words...

Ok, I lied... Yeah I do. This is a real honest to god message I got this morning:
    how i would love to kiss your boots (Seriously? They are leather. Do you have ANY idea how much saddle soap it would take to recondition them after you slobbered all over them?!?) and worship at the feet of a true Goddess such as yourself (*rolls eyes* A true goddess? Yeah, that's cause you have never seen me PMS'ing and without coffee). You accomplished so much (*scratches head* Why? cause I managed to survive through a non fatal heart problem?) and to be a part of Your life in the most menial way (Congrats, you are now part of permanent internet history). to do things for you (thanks, I can do it myself), cater to you (Really... I am quite capable of doing shit myself. You are starting to look like a TOTAL pussy), make your life easier would be a real honor even if its not really much to others (Did you REALLY just insult me after kissing my ass?!?). You seem so perfect (*sigh* At this point I am ready to snarf my coffee). to know You (how hard is it to use proper capitalization?!?) would be a real honor (*flag on the play* Utter lack of punctuation!)
In WHAT world is sending messages like this ok?!?

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Moving on, is a simple thing...

Moving on, is a simple thing, what it leaves behind is hard. ~
Dave Mustaine

I'm single yet again. I know I should be happy, but I'm not. The guy I was with was an incredibly sweet guy, but he also had issues. The biggest issue was TRUST. I trusted him, he didn't return the favor. Every time I turned around I was being bitched at for something that was on Facebook. And when I'd get upset, he'd swear he'd change. But hours later, it would happen again.

I forgot how much situations like that suck. He's upset, I'm upset, my friends are upset because I'm upset.

*sigh*

Oh... and the Biker Boy walked back into my my life.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

I’m just looking for the girl, The girl with the heart of gold…

adventure
- 3 dictionary results
ad•ven•ture
Show Spelled [ad-ven-cher] Show IPA noun, verb, -tured, -tur•ing.

–noun

1. an exciting or very unusual experience.
2. participation in exciting undertakings or enterprises: the spirit of adventure.
3. a bold, usually risky undertaking; hazardous action of uncertain outcome.
4. a commercial or financial speculation of any kind; venture.
5. Obsolete .
a. peril; danger; risk.
b. chance; fortune; luck.

–verb (used with object)

6. to risk or hazard.
7. to take the chance of; dare.
8. to venture to say or utter: to adventure an opinion.

–verb (used without object)

9. to take the risk involved.
10. to venture; hazard.

I find myself in an interesting position now. I write a blog about my adventures in the dating world (the weird messages, the WTF were they thinking profiles, the cracked out speed dating events) but now I am a *gasp* GIRLFRIEND (Yeah, it freaks me out too sometimes because I am not use to having someone in my life.)! Oh, and I am dating someone who lives like 125 miles away. This means not only am I adjusting to having someone in my life, but I am also adapting to spending a large portion of my time with the BF in a strange city which I really have never been to (did I mention yet that this city is below the Mason-Dixon Line?!?). We now have a WHOLE new level of adventure, don’t we? Me adjusting to and learning my way around a new city…

A quick intro to the BF:
  • he is amazingly sweet (he spoils me which is a huge adjustment for me but can be a jerk at times too)
  • he is a hunter (yummmm… dead Bambi!)
  • he drives a really nice truck (ahhhhh… the superficial things I notice and that I’m NOT allowed to drive)
  • he could pick me up and throw me like a javelin (there are VERY few people I look like a midget next to, but yeah. I look TINY next to him)
  • he seems to think my world revolves around him (it sort of does… but not completely. At least not yet)
  • He can be brutally honest (something I am not use to and I tend to take EVERYTHING personally)
  • He doesn’t smoke (and rides my ass about smoking which is why it has been… 11 days since my last cigarette)
  • He is VERY private (This blog will mostly be about the things I do when he is working on Saturdays, with the occasionally trip we take together. There will be no… “Like OMG, he is SUCH an asshole he didn’t get me *fill in object”. If he does something incredibly sweet like all the stuff he did this weekend you guys will have to suffer through me talking about it.)
  • He is the type of person that it makes me VERY happy to be able to look him in the eyes and say one thing… “MINE!”

I actually was down to see him last weekend (which it totally sucked having to come home), and since he took off from work we spent the whole weekend together. I would like to say we went all sorts of exciting places but we really didn’t. lol. He suffered through me getting a manicure & pedicure (he took it REALLY well, especially since he was paying for it. Yes. I know I am very spoiled and VERY lucky. He also opens doors), we went to see the Expendables (OMFG! Awesome movie), I got to do to my very first Bass Pro Shop (the sick part is… there is actually stuff in there I’d buy), and we went to one of his friends tattoo shops (I got dropped in amongst people I don’t know which is an ungodly terrifying experience for me, with about 2 ½ minutes warning. Thanks baby. Appreciated. Lol). I'm not too sure how I feel about sharing any more about this weekend.

So the real adventures will begin in like 2 weeks when I will have more of a chance to explore and get pictures…

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Well... Now what?

I'm really NOT quite sure how to proceed on this one. lol. I started this blog to basically ridicule all the stupid messages I get on the assorted dating sites I'm on. Errrr... I mean WAS on (I'm still not use to this whole being with someone shit). It makes it a bit difficult to write this blog since I have pretty much deactivated all my various accounts (I still have my OKC but that is because I have friends on there that aren't anywhere else).

Now I get to go into negotiations on how much I am allowed to mention on here about the person I am (Honey, since I KNOW you are reading this, have we decided wtf is going on yet? lol. If we have and I am just super dumb by not realizing that we made that decision, you REALLY need to change your "looking for" on FB. Just saying. I know threats from me REALLY aren't that scary since I am a freaking MIDGET next to you but yeah... Pissed off redheads are no fun. If we haven't made that decision, just disregard that last bit. Especially the threat.)... um... yeah... I'll get back to everyone on WHAT it is and we'll call it "doing whatever I am doing with him" for right now.

For the time being I guess my baby is totally on hold. And I really NEVER thought I'd be saying that 3 months after I started the blog. :-) But I'm happy with where things are and where they seem to be going, so too bad.

Friday, August 6, 2010

In WHAT fucking world...

Ok... 4 or 5 years on in the "Online Dating Zoo" and I have seen some INCREDIBLY bazaar and fucked up shit. However... This takes the cake!


In WHAT fucking world would you think this is either sexy or an appropriate means of winning a girlfriend?

Don't get me wrong...
  • I think guns and weapons are like OMFG *bites lip* sexy.

  • I HATE super scrawny guys. I am TOTALLY afraid of breaking them.

  • After YEARS of dealing with wrestlers who wax their bodies within an inch of their lives, and having been handed clippers and asked "Can you shave my back", I have NO problem with body hair on guys.

However, at NO point are the following attractive:
  • a "banana hammock"

  • hair that I can't tell if its a mullet or just scary

  • pointing a gun at ANY part of your body, even unintentionally

  • looking like Russell Brand's less intelligent, and less funny older brother.
*sign* I opened an EMAIL and saw that, which was the best part. Really. I haven't had my coffee yet and that scared the SHIT out of me.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

The First Rule of Fight Club...

Hmmmm... Can someone explain to me how you write a dating blog when the person you are currently talking to is intensely private. Private to the point that he deletes EVERYTHING he puts onto my facebook (which btw I find irritating as hell but that's life I guess) leaving me to look like I'm talking to myself (which is WHY I find it so damn irritating). So great. Now I am left without a major topic of conversation (The first Rule of Fight Club is "You don't talk about fight club"). *sigh* Or so I thought. I have at least 1 more blog (being this one).

I logged onto my OKC account (I have friends on there that aren't cool enough to be on my Facebook) and had this demented Ice Cube notification. I've seen it before (always ignored it) but finally decided to click on it. And THIS is what it is:



So let me get this right... You want me to send someone a random message because we have yoga in common? How 'bout I get a bit more info FIRST! Cause really, that's just weird.

Friday, July 30, 2010

Gotta love a two-some…

This is going to be a 2-fer blog day.

First there is this bit of wisdom which is a continuation of yesterday’s blog:
    From: 4*******s
    Subject: RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 7/29/2010 5:58:00 PM

    So that's it then? This is going no further? That sucks.
Wait… So let me get this straight. You continuously mock something that was a big enough part of my life that I chose to put it on my profile, THEN you chastised me for not asking you about yourself. And now you are pissed that I didn’t reply. Sorry, I was a BIT taken aback by the continued talking down to & belittling and if I HAD replied you certainly wouldn’t have liked my response. Unfortunately, what this message screams is that not only are you TOTALLY inconsiderate (as noted by your continued digging yourself deeper and deeper) but apparently you are a PUSSY as well.

And as I said to the friend I practically sexually assaulted (ok, I grabbed his ass) on a train platform this morning (you know you loved it honey, but I’m very glad I am shorter than you and am smart enough to duck) “If I wanted a pussy I’d get a cat.”

And then there is this, which is something I wrote as a wrestler, and later updated for dating sites. I was telling the friend I was messing with this morning about it and figured I’d post it for everyone’s reading enjoyment:
    Let’s get some shit straight, shall we?

    I felt the need to repost this after some of the creative messages and IM's I've received over the last few days. While some of the people I have spoken to have restored my faith in there being some NORMAL people on this site, others make me wonder when the asylum will realize they are AWOL...

    This is basically directed towards some of the more cretin-ish things I have experienced on this site...

    1. I am not some stupid fucking whore who will jump at the chance to sleep with you because you are a legend in your own fucking mind. Sorry, NOT FUCKING HAPPENING! I honestly could careless that you are a GOD in your own fucking feeble mind. And considering I have seen some of the rats that a lot of guys are ready & willing to hook up with, I would rather masturbate with a cheese grater then have you touch me, ESPECIALLY if I don’t know ANYTHING about you (see below).

    2. I despise being touched by people I don't know. The idea of it makes me physically ill. My idea of hell on earth is going to a concert and having sweaty people I don't know pressing up against me. But I am HUGELY affectionate with my close friends (those I consider family), and I will tolerate being touched by adequateness. Therefore, this means, I will not just fall into bed with you. I will take the time to figure out if you are actually WORTH me sleeping with. I don't need a "warm body" in my bed, and I especially don't need "someone to take care of me". I have done quite well for myself, ON MY OWN for the past 7 years. I am looking for an equal. Someone I'd be willing to give up my freedom for. I have found that trait in 2 people from here. Neither of them know it either. And, by the way, I know as soon as I meet someone whether the touching issue will be a problem.

    3. I have tits! Holy Shit! I carry them around with me every fucking day. In fact, I even RUN WITH THEM! I have noticed this, and I don't need them pointed out. I also don't need them spoken to. Pointing out that I have tattoos near them just makes you look really fucking STUPID! I paid for the fucking tattoos! I know they are there. And yes, to get this goddamn question out of the way my tits are fucking real. And NO, you can't fucking play with them. In fact let me note, yet again: I WOULD RATHER HAVE MY SKIN PEELED OFF AND THEN BE DIPPED IN A 10% BLEACH SOLUTION THEN HAVE A 90% OF THE SCUMBAGS WHO HAVE SENT SOME SORT OF "CREATIVE" MESSAGE IN MY DIRECTION, TOUCH ME.

    4. If you repeatedly tell me that I really need to sleep with you after I have repeatedly told you NO, you automatically become a massive annoyance. You will continue to get the same goddamn answer: Bugging me about it just makes me think you are desperate and knocks you even lower on my mental ladder of life forms. In fact, it puts you on the rung between dog shit/pedophile and pond scum/Date Rapist.

    5. I know I am extremely flexible. I have been doing Yoga for 10 years. I'd assume by now that I could bend my body into contortions that could make a PORN STAR blush, and do so at least 3 times a week, EVERY WEEK. Telling me I should come over and you will show me some "NEW YOGA POSITIONS" is about as creative as telling me, when you find out I am a Pro-Wrestler, "Wanna wrestle? I'll let you win..." It was amusing the first time I was told that. Now it just gives me a strong desire to kick your ass and leave you bleeding on a wrestling mat while I stand over you and laugh.

    6. Kindly think LONG AND HARD about what you are writing when you message me. If it is something you wouldn't appreciate your daughter or little sister getting, do us BOTH a favor, and DON'T FUCKING SEND IT! I am getting really tired of having to block douche bags who take one look at my pictures, and send me some sort of crude message. I don’t give a flying fuck what my pictures make you want to do to me or to yourself. I attempt to be nice and reply, simply because I feel it is good manners. And then I get the same fucking STUPID question, "So what kind of stuff are you into?" How `bout you save me the time from my busy day and actually READ MY PROFILE instead of just jumping to conclusions by my pictures.

    7. I am really not interested in threesomes, or dallying with someone who is taken (and isn't poly). If I wanted to do EITHER of the aforementioned things, I have PLENTY of friends I can hit up. End of story. None of you troglodytes thus far are hot enough, intelligent enough & rich enough to make me even think twice about involving myself in that kind of drama. I am more than happy to become friends, but I really am not interested in becoming the other woman.

    8. (This was taken directly from a blog I posted when I was wrestling 2-3 times a week, but it gets the point across) Don't attempt to impress me with how "cool" you are. I don't fucking care. I don't go for muscle-bound meatheads who insist on living in a fantasy world. Talk to me when you have a real fucking job, a brain, and some common fucking courtesy. Treating me like shit cause "I am a female in a male dominated business" won't get me all hot & wet and ready to jump your bones in all sorts of nasty and degrading fashions. I work in a male dominated business in the real world, and guess what jackasses...that shit don't fly in the "real world". Sexual harassment lawsuits are extremely expensive. Unfortunately, you fucking retarded assholes have been working in this absolutely incredible FANTASY WORLD WHERE THIS SHIT IS OK!

    Hopefully this will clear up some massive misconceptions you Neanderthal assholes have.

    Have a nice day & kindly leave me out of your perverted fantasies.
Yup... Once an asshole, always an asshole.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

your soul is toxic, you ain't no friend of mine

I must admit, at this point, I am mostly on PoF for this blog. 95% of the people on that site are a bunch of pretentious douche bags. That site is like combining the assholes you get in Seaside Heights, the Wildwoods & Great Adventure during the summer into one GIANT electronic clusterfuck. The collective IQ is somewhere between a rock and Forest Gump’s and most of the people on there think they are hot shit (in reality they are just stupid, ugly and ignorant). If I wanted someone like that, I'd date any of a number of Pro-Wrestlers who have propositioned me over the years. It has hit the point where now, when I get a message notification I cringe. This exchange, while MOSTLY grammatically correct (*happy dance*) gives a fairly good indication on why:

    From: 4*******s
    Subject: Hi Sent Date: 7/27/2010 12:54:32 PM

    I remember I was telemarketing once, and I got an answering machine for a pro-wrestling training camp (actually, they are called a wrestling SCHOOL but whatever). Needless to say, that number got passed around like joint at dead concert.
    Anyways, hi. I'm mike. How are you today?


    From: Hooli-Gin
    Subject: RE:Hi Sent Date: 7/27/2010 1:00:49 PM

    Hey Mike,

    I have had better days (I'm an office manager and got screamed at by a client for NO reason) but your description of the number getting passed around definitely just made me burst out laughing. How are you today?

    Melissa


    From: 4*******s
    Subject: RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 7/27/2010 1:20:16 PM

    Thanks. I'm glad you liked it. I'm ok. My day has just begun though, so I can't really say whether it's a good or bad day yet, but I brightened your day after a bad phone call, so I think I'm off to a good start.

    You should be used to getting yelled at for no reason (EX-fucking-SCUSE ME?!? We have gotten 3 messages into it and you have the fucking balls to make a sweeping generalization about me?). That's all professional wrestlers do (Actually, we drink, smoke, do drugs and hurt one another. That’s it.) is yell at each other like it's personal, then take it in to the ring. (THIS is where we are REALLY starting to run into issues. It is MORE than fine for me to insult the wrestling business, since I have LIVED THROUGH IT! I paid my fucking dues in that business. But really, you know nothing about what we go through, or about the business so why don’t you shut the fuck up. All you are doing is pissing me off and making me regret that I replied to your message.)

    So what's with the name hooli-gin, besides being a pun on hooligan? Does it have anything to do with hula hoops and gin? Because if it does, we have some more things to talk about (Seriously asshat, lay off the pot or crack or WHATEVER you are smoking.).

    I'm curious about the modeling/ photography thing. Do you ever do fetish stuff? My thing is pantyhose (*sigh* I care WHY?!?). Hopefully that doesn't make you run for the hills (If you have to say something like that, then DON’T put it into the message). I'm guessing it won't (no, it won’t. But it also doesn’t make me all hot and wanting to tear your clothes off). If you ever want to do a pantyhose shoot, I could probably offer some great advice on poses, attire, etc (why don’t I just talk to any of a NUMBER of fetish photographers I know instead? THEY know what shoots well. You just want to get off).

    Also, really cool that you volunteer with animals.


    From: Hooli-Gin
    Subject: RE:RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 7/27/2010 1:33:19 PM

    The being use to getting yelled at in wrestling is completely different. Among other things I haven't wrestled in almost 3 years. And 9 times out of 10 we weren't in the same place at the same time while shooting promos. And my friends weren't personally attacking me for stuff I had no control over.

    It's just a pun on my nickname which is Hooli (short for hooligan). I don't really even drink anymore so I should probably change it. lol.

    I do pin up stuff mostly, but I prefer to be behind the camera recently. I have started getting into shooting abandoned houses. The closest I will be getting anytime soon to a fetish shoot is the album cover I am doing for a friends band. And that is more of a horror movie shoot. I prefer to have rigid control over where my image is used and doing fetish stuff while being a control freak is useless.


    From: 4*******s
    Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 7/27/2010 1:47:37 PM

    Yeah, we all know wrestling is fake and you're all best of friends in the locker room and on their days off Sgt Slaughter is calling up the Iron Sheik and being like, "I just got a delightful new tea you simply must try." And the Sheik is all, "Sounds splendid, I'll pickup some truffles on the way." Sorry if that was a little old school, I haven't payed attention to wrestling in two and a half decades (That wasn’t “Old School” as you fucking termed it. That was a COMPLETE mockery of anything I had tried to explain to you and an insult to the 7 years of training and shit I went through. At this fucking point, just SHUT YOUR MOUTH and stop trying to sound cool by mouthing off about wrestling).

    I have some pin up stuff here. Not much though, just 4 pictures/ pages from some 1950's playboys. I got the pictures at a yard sale I stumbled across while delivering beer, when I was the beer guy.

    Hey, did the words "picture/ pages" make your mind flashback to the theme song from the old show with Bill Cosby? Mine did, and now the song is gonna be stuck in my head all day. (Not really. I don’t remember that show, and at this point, I think you are fucking retarded and I want to go back in time and ignore your initial message)

    What's the band you're doing a shoot for? The abandon houses thing sounds pretty cool. I'd like to see them. I understand what you mean about having no control over fetish pictures, I see a lot of picture stealing. Although it's kind of hott that you're a control freak (If you want a dominatrix, go fucking pay for one. Seriously, if I beat the shit out of you, you AREN’T going to enjoy it. Mostly likely you will be in ICU and I will be in jail for the rest of my life. I am a control freak over my images because I use to work for the Department of Defense and I hold a security clearance.).


    From: Hooli-Gin
    Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 7/27/2010 2:12:42 PM

    First of all, I wouldn't classify wrestling as fake. I live with severe and permanent nerve damage (that is slowly getting worse) on a daily basis because one single rudimentary move got messed up. Predetermined? Yes. Fake? No. Secondly, we are not all best friends. We have professional respect for one another since we have no choice and some of us are virtually family. You give up your entire life to initially train to wrestle and then nights and weekends to wrestle at shows. I have watched marriages dissolve and families implode because of the constant stress and effort to sustain a career.

    The band I am shooting for is a metal band called Pillow Suffocation. It is named after a threat I'd used on the lead singer about why he and I shouldn't date. And I am not THAT form of a control freak.


    From: 4*******s
    Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 7/27/2010 2:23:15 PM

    This isn't going well is it? (Congratulations Captain Obvious. You have insulted me enough that whatever MINISCULE desire I had to meet you on the off chance you might be cooler in person has evaporated into a large amount of contempt at your desire to inflate your ego by mocking a large part of my life.)


    From: Hooli-Gin
    Subject: RE:Hi Sent Date: 7/27/2010 2:29:57 PM

    It was the wrestling joke. I have been in excruciating pain for the past few days because I can't place full weight on my foot because I fractured my neck while wrestling. I have lost most of the feeling from my big toe to my ankle on the inside arch of my foot.

    When I am in pain I lose my sense of humor. And I have no sense of humor to begin with (at least when it comes to wrestling).


    From: 4*******s
    Subject: RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 7/27/2010 2:52:24 PM

    Well, it's not like I knew you were in pain. Not really sure how you can't have a somewhat of a sense of humor when it comes to wrestling (*rolls eyes*), I mean, the way those people dress and act, and the little names they come up with for themselves (yeah asshole, it’s called a gimmick. It’s what we get paid to do). Let's not forget, Lou Albino stuck rubber bands to his face. C'mon, that's just silly. I'm not trying to imply that it doesn't take strength, skill and a sh*tton of practice (actually fucktard… yes, that’s EXACTLY what you DID imply). What I meant by fake was, if the moves aren't done properly, or if you pulled one of those moves in a street fight, you'd probably kill or paralyze somebody (I know. I live with that on a DAILY basis). Or when they punch, they're not punching at full strength (some of us come pretty damn close to punching at full strength. It’s called stiffing someone and I am an expert at it.), hence the foot stomping. And then there's the blood, which is most often fake blood capsules (Actually… This goes to show how little you know. It is usually REAL blood. With a REAL RAZOR BLADE. And they they get stitched up or glued together at the end.). That's what I mean by fake. If I'm wrong, I apologize. I haven't watched wrestling since the early 80's (Perhaps, you should have ASKED ME ABOUT IT THEN instead of TELLING me how shit was done!).

    I remember watching an interview with Vince McMahon once. After Ted Turner bought his wrestling league, he called Vince and said, "guess what, I'm in the wrastling (rassling if you want to be a fucking MARK!) business now." To which Vince replied, I don't know anything about wrestling, I'm in the entertainment business (*sarcastic applause* Really???? Really??? Did you REALLY just throw a line out at me from “The Unreal History of Pro Wrestling?” I am WELL aware of what McMahon said. I know people who work for him) . I remember that because I liked Vince's approach. Also, Vince McMahon's death, fake (OMFG?!? REALLY???? I thought the dude I saw in the ring getting the shit kicked out of him while channel surfing a couple weeks ago was an honest to god ZOMBIE!). Maybe Andy Reid should try that.

    It seems to me that if you were at all interested you would've come up with a question or two of your own (I would have if I didn’t feel like I was being NEEDLESSLY attacked and mocked, thereby needing to defend myself.). I appreciate you answering my questions and having a chat with me, but when you don't ask any questions yourself it tells me you don't care to know anything about me (I don’t care because you started showing your true colors.). Plus, it puts all of the pressure on me to make small talk. Like, I read these responses and think, I'm interested, but where do I go from here, what do I say next. (I’m really getting lectured on decorum by someone who has just spent the last how many emails INSULTING ME?!? Seriously… WHATEVER! Grow a set and realize that I am not going to act all interested in you when every message you sent was written in shades of DOUCHE BAG!)
I totally understand that I can be a really short tempered bitch. But at SOME POINT wouldn't it dawn on you, LONG before the whiny last message (like maybe the 3rd message?) that maybe, JUST MAYBE, I am not digging your fucking stupid comments about the wrestling business and that you need to try a different tactic?

At this point, after some of the messages I've received, and that my friends have received, I am going to just stay in my house in peace & quiet watching TV. I know I'll meet a Prince Charming some day, but unless he delivers pizza or Chinese food or works at the liquor store I doubt it will be any time soon. Oh, and BB has gone COMPLETELY AWOL. There is someone I just started talking to again, BUT that is for a completely different time.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Speed Dating, Serial Killers and Biker Boys… Or Why Do Guys Do Stupid Stuff:

Speed Dating:
My FIRST thought upon arriving at the Hyatt for the speed dating event was “WTF am I thinking?!?” I had been talking to this guy (The Biker Boy, for future reference) for a couple days and everything was going swimmingly. Needless to say, I felt a BIT awkward going to the speed dating thing because I already had a date planned with the Biker Boy for Saturday and I’d been talking to him all day via text and email. My second thought, as all the guys were filing in was “FUCK ME! I’m the tallest one here!” Yes, I was wearing heels, BUT I am fairly tall for a chick to begin with. It always freaks me out to be the tallest person, or even if I am wearing flats, NEARLY the tallest person.

We did this weird game/ice breaker/mingling thing once the majority of people got there. Yeah. This requires me to remember people’s names. That is NOT a good thing. I am HORRIBLE with names. I also didn’t tell the friend I was with that I have agoraphobia and I know how other people view me (I’m VERY bouncy at times and I don’t always understand social cues). I was definitely a bit panicked about the whole thing. It was definitely fun talking to some of the people so I actually started to look forward to the actual speed date/one on one part of it. Once the final 2 guys showed up (they were actually taller than me in heels) the ladies were seated with one guy from the 10. So here is what I remember of the guys:

Bachelor #1: My initial reaction was that he was a bit too “Jersey Shore” for my tastes. This was shortly followed by… “Why the fuck is he wearing a black & white buffalo plaid shirt that looks to be a smidge too small? Oh. He wants to show off his impressive physique. *eye roll* Yup… Gotta LOVE steroids. Oh shit. He is the FIRST one I get to deal with. Please God, I know I only come to you when I really need something but please, please, please don’t let this guy be as fucking stupid as I think he is going to be.” We introduce ourselves and he is now looking distinctly uncomfortable. Do I have tooth paste on my cheek? BO? *sigh* This blows. “So… what do you do?” “I’m a personal trainer” “Wow. Somehow THAT doesn’t surprise me.” He manages to MISS my sarcasm. I’m NOT sure how but… ok. And then we get to the crux of the matter. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude… My psycho ex-girlfriend found out I was going to be here and showed up. With her new boyfriend. Who works as a stripper at Risque. That she always use to compare me to while we were dating. This is HUGELY awkward, and I’m really sorry.” In situations like that I did the only thing I could. Laughed my ass off. *Ding* Times up… which leads us to:

Bachelor #2: Did I remember to mention Bachelor #1 brought his BROTHER!?! Yeah. Cause speed dating isn’t awkward enough. Lol. And part of B1 and my convo was how his brother JUST drove back from West Palm. Lovely. So this guy and I have something in common. Nice. But he does have the forehead and build of a caveman (I’m use to wrestlers so I guess that KINDA makes him my style). He also has the apparent brain power of a 2x4. Actually no, that’s kind of cruel. He was in the same situation as his brother, being that all he knew about the now infamous ex was what his brother old him. And something tells me his brother was as much to blame for the craziness. We did in fact have driving styles and minor things like that in common. And we started to discuss how neither brother had any animosity towards the new boyfriend But then… *ding* Gah! My curiosity will never be appeased.

Bachelor #3: This poor guy never stood a chance. Why??? Because the maybe new boyfriend got ALL sorts of screwed up and thought he was meeting me next and I’m a gossip. Yeah. I really can’t remember much other than… Um. Ahhhhhhh…. *ding*

Bachelor #4: The new boyfriend. Who according to him isn’t dating her, they are just friends. Wait. Let me go back to the beginning. He sits down, introduces himself and says: “I am the supposedly new boyfriend. What have they been saying about me? Do they hate me??? I tried getting info from the girls before you but none of them would talk.” So I told him the truth. They didn’t hate him (they were running on that whole “bro’s before ho’s” think which I find alternatingly irritating and beneficial depending on the situation) but they did think that what she did was VERY fucked up. I did not follow the chicks before dicks rule (most of my friends are guys so I tend to side with them) and I definitely agree with the guys on this one. I really enjoyed bullshitting with B4 and he is someone I could see myself hanging out with or whatever. Not so much dating him tho.

Bachelor #5: Oh lord! My ex-roommate Britt use to have this saying about “nice guys”: “I eat nice guys for breakfast. They are my main source of fiber.” B5 fit this description. He was a very nice guy (admittedly with an annoyingly high voice) who wouldn’t have survived a date with me. We did have a lot in common but I can’t see him reacting well to me losing my temper. I throw things when I get pissed. And I scream. And I generally turn into a RAGING bitch. With me you have to either have the balls to tell me to shut the fuck up, or the brains to just roll. If you get in my way, it gets SUPER ugly. If you try to “fix” stuff in my life it gets even uglier. So, unfortunately, while I’d love to get a beer with him and talk web design, I doubt he’d be able to separate a “date” from “hanging out and bullshitting with someone as a friend”.

Bachelor #6: How can people who are so different all start blending together? Cause that’s what started happening by now. I have a SUPER short attention span (surprising I know!) and at this point I’m ready to just wander off. H. was a REALLY nice guy, but he was excessively short and like the rest, I’d get a kick out of going to have a beer, but not so much on the dating department.

Bachelor #7: This one was even shorter. He was a civil engineer on the Commodore Barry Bridge project. He was one of a group of 3 coworkers who apparently pre-gamed HARDCORE before the event.

Bachelor #8 & #9: They were equally drunk and holy hell they made the speed dating worth the price of admission. Lol. One stood up and started screaming that the coworker I was with was a Steelers fan and it was hysterical. They were both drinking whiskey on the rocks and were totally not serious about the whole situation. My face hurt by the end of talking to these guys.

Bachelor #10: I know I am no great beauty, not model skinny, and probably have more baggage than Louis Vuitton, but to have this guy look at the host and say “aren’t we done yet?” FUCK THAT SHIT! Seriously, he was scrawny, twitchy, and pretentious. I don’t care that he has a boat, an apartment at dockside and a house elsewhere. He asked me the same damn question 3 times, didn’t meet my eye, and bolted as soon as we were done. I have better things to do to be treated like shit by some douche bag. Whatever….

Everyone stuck around at the very end, some of us went out and smoked. Bachelor #2 proved he was a royal dick. Bummed a cigarette, then took 2 out of my pack. *rolls eyes* Hot, and knows it. Thinks a bird is going to fall all over herself for the honor of his attention. I’d rather masturbate with a rusty cheese grater than EVER go out with that asshat. People like that are part of the reason I have been single for so long and are a large part of the reason I rarely leave my house anymore.

The TRUE entertainment started in the hotel bar when some drunk dude decided to try to hook me up with his friend. Don’t get me wrong, the friend was VERY good looking, but the entire situation was a bit strange. Thank god my coworker had to roll, because it gave me an excuse to bail too. I got onto the train to head home and proceeded to start texting with the Biker Boy who I had been talking with almost constantly for the last week. I was half shot in the ass because I haven’t been sleeping lately, and for some reason the walk to my car was a hell of a lot scarier than usual… I got home safe, but I’d called B.B. on the way which leads us to:

The Biker Boy:
There is not much I can say about this as a critique since whatever we have together is still in the process of playing itself out. I guess the best way I can describe it is “complicated”. B.B. is an AWESOME guy. I really dig him. He is one of the first guys I’ve met in a long time that I would date and NOT feel like my life was being spent taking care of him and worrying about him. But BB also drives me fucking nuts. I guess he doesn’t realize how self-sufficient I am, or expects me to be one of those stupid birds who thinks his life begins and ends with me. Which, given the number of idiots I’ve run into on PoF, doesn’t surprise me. He also has the habit of going *poof* gone. Yeah, and I am neurotic, so him going AWOL for a week (which he just did) drives me batshit crazy. But I am going to give the highlights of why I dig him so much, and why I turned down a guy that I TOTALLY adore:

~ He is super protective and not in a stupid, “You’re a helpless chick” sort of way. There is this neighbor Jay I have, that like a year ago I drank like 2 bottles of wine and hooked up with. Now the guy won’t leave me alone, telling me he is so in love with me and that I broke his heart by disappearing (he has SUPER bad breath and dude smells like death, I wonder why I disappeared when I sobered up). Last weekend I was taking some trash out and getting some herbs from my garden when my neighbor O and I started going back and forth about the fact that I was wearing a white teeshirt (and since it was hot as hell I hadn’t put on a bra after I got home from work). To my horror all of a sudden I hear “Puuuuuuuuunk!!!!!” I some how managed to miss that Jay was in Ben’s yard. *sigh* Fuck me gently with a chain saw. Then it became a rapid-fire clusterfuck of stupid questions and whining. Really! Jay asked me what I was doing and if I lived at my house (my reply was: no, I am in some strangers fucking garden picking their fucking herbs, OF COURSE I FUCKING LIVE HERE!) . Then he starts with the whining about why do I hate him. Probably the fact that I have repeatedly told him NOT to fucking call me Punk, and that I don’t hate him, I want to be left the hell alone!

This is my issue with the entire situation… There was a REASON this douche bag never knew where I lived. Because every time I am forced to deal with him I feel like I need witness protection. Seriously, I told one of the captains of the Florence PD that I would set the motherfucker up (he has to be the most incompetent drug dealer EVER! I told him I don’t use ANYTHING and he continuously pushes me on if I will use *insert drug name here*) as long as they promise to lock him up so I don’t have to deal with him! Three of my neighbors are drug deals… I would NEVER sell them out (one of them is actually doing it to pay his wife’s college tuition). I hate this motherfucker THAT much.

I am actually kind of scared about the fact that this guy and his cousins now know where I live. I live by myself and other than a collection of knives near my bed, I have VERY little means of protection. When I told B.B. about all of this, all he said was “If he fucks with you, I will take care of it.” I’m pretty sure the dead serious look in his eyes explained it all. I am waiting until the day the Serial Killer calls and I am with B.B.

~ He can deal with my sarcastic comments without getting all stupid about it. We managed to get into the worlds STUPIDEST argument the night of our first date (which was supposed to be on a Saturday but ended up be the day after the speed dating). It was hot out and I decided I wanted to go to the movies. Reasonable especially because I have no AC except in my bedroom and I am tired of being stuck in one room of my house. I was on the train home and suggested that B.B. and I meet in Woodbridge to see a movie since its half way between us. Then he started… telling me to just come to his house (did I mention he lives an hour and a half away?????) and I can just stay at his house and blah, blah, blah. Then I got pissed. Why the FUCK do I have to do all of the driving?? That seriously doesn’t seem fair. Plus there seems to be the mistaken impression that he is getting a piece of ass.

Then the truth FINALLY comes out. He had stuff he has to do for the MC before he heads out to meet me and he didn’t want me waiting all damn night. *sigh* This is the point in time that I tell him he is stupid and is an ass. We would have saved a good 20 min of arguing, and me getting stressed & pissed off if he had just said that in the first damn place. I did end up going to his house, and we went out on the bike up to some little strange town in NY state (it was a weird preppy twilight zone). We had a great time and I did end up crashing at his house because I would have fallen asleep on the drive home.

~ He thinks I’m a good person because his dog doesn’t like to leave my side when I am up there. Most guys I know would get all weird about the fact their dog looks to me before they listen to a command. B.B. just takes it as his dog is a good judge of character.

~ He opens car doors for me. But he was also surprised when we went for pet food that I told him to give me his keys so I could open the trunk for him. Its more of a partnership than me being spoilt.

Like I said though, I don’t know where this is going to lead because there are 2 separate parts of B.B.’s life, and when you keep me in the dark on shit I get very, very nervous. But I do want to see where this ride goes. This is a guy who fits most the things I want in a guy.

The Serial Killer… Or “How bad of a Judge of Character am I?”:
Ahhhhhhh… Where the FUCK do I start with this one? When I started to talk to C originally he seemed super cool. Like a little too cool, actually. We decided that we were going to go to NYC on the 4th for our first date, and I was really looking forward to it. But then he got weird when I wasn’t comfortable giving him my number. It’s my goddamn cell phone, and to be totally honest, I am not in the mood to have to change my number because of some psycho-twinkie. When I finally did give him my number, I told him POINTBLANK that I cannot STAND talking on the phone and the fastest way to piss me off is to call me. So what does he do… FUCKING CALLS ME! Then he calls me back and leaves another voicemail (I think they are an even bigger waste of time that being stuck in one damn place in my house to talk on the phone) apologizing for calling me when I am at work, and that he is really sorry for bothering me and… *face-palm* FUCK! I am dealing with another pussy! Maybe 4 days after I start talking to him, I get a voicemail (did I mention he would call me 4 or 5 times a day even after I asked him not to?) of him whining that he had a rough day and to please call him cause he “needs” to hear my voice. Holy hell! Did I mention that this dude apparently is a TOTAL pussy?????? I don’t want to hear that you NEED me 4 days after we start talking. Maybe after 4 months… 4 years would be preferable.

As the planning for the date continues, it becomes much more complicated. Suddenly, he needs to stay at my house because his car isn’t working so he is taking the bus up. I am really not sure how I feel about that one, because I am neurotic about people knowing where I live. Those who know me well know why. I have friends I have known for 7 & 8 years who still have never been to my house. But I tell him it is ok, because I didn’t know what else to say. He pretty much invited himself over. And I am about to start scrambling for an out because he has made a comment about hooking up with me and my part-time roommate and he seems to think he is allowed to hold all my time hostage.

At some point around now, my curiosity gets the best of me, and I decided to find him on MySpace. It’s NOT like it was THAT hard. Find his band, find the band members and… Wait???? WTF????? He’s ENGAGED?!? For the shits and giggles, I add him anyway. I wanted to see what he would do. After he accepts my request, he suddenly becomes single. So let me get this shit straight… You COMPLETELY forget about your status for over a year, until I find your Facebook too, and then call you out on your bullshit. I was born at night… But not last fucking night. I don’t fuck around with shit like that. I was the other woman for… almost 10 years. It got me no where, and nothing except a very warped view of dating. I don’t buy the line that he “forgot” because it was a super bad break-up.

And the more I told my neighbors Jess & O, and the more they gave me their opinions on everything, the more I realized that this was a potentially bad situation. At one point, when I was thinking on just meeting C in Philly (I had already scheduled my tattoo appointment which ensured I wasn’t going to get super stupid and agree to meet him Coney Island, a place that is HIS stomping grounds not mine), he said in response to me telling him I didn’t trust him any further than I could throw him “You will trust me as soon as you meet me.” He also started texting and calling me constantly when I said I wanted to be left the fuck alone. It hit the point where he was DEMANDING I call him that we “needed to talk” (no, I NEED to die and pay taxes. If I can get out of either of them I fucking will!). I was dealing with other stuff in my life and the last thing I really wanted was more drama. At one point I was so fed up, I started telling someone I had met on a different dating site (and who has expressed on multiple occasions that he wants to take me home) what was going on, and his comment when I told him the “You’ll trust me” line was, “Yeah, You’d trust him as soon as he slips the roofie into your drink. You’d be seriously stupid to meet this guy anywhere, and this is coming from someone who would jump your bones as soon as I saw you.”

Um…. Yeah. So this guy went from being super cool, to being called Chuck 2.0 (a reference to my ex-psychotwinkie who is the entire reason I can’t stand spineless pussies), to being referred to as the Serial Killer. Everyone I spoke to about this dude was convinced that if I ever went out with him, I would NEVER come back. And he still calls me occasionally, demanding I call him.