My Dog ate my Phone

He turned out to actually be a completely pretentious flake as well. We had our date, such as it was. He apparently comes from some money; his Father was a bit of a local Muckity-muck. But he spent at least an hour bitching about his Mother (issues!). Not.real.appealing. I was left thinking that whatever came across over the phone sure isn’t there in person. But when there’s nothing else going on, you might as well give it another go or three. You never know, he could grow on you (where have I heard that before, hmmmm?)

But then he couldn’t ever seem to date on the weekends (no, not married, I’ve been to his house). We’d meet during the week, but he finally flaked and stood me up last week, then tried to tell me 3 days later, via a text message (hahahahahahahahahahaha! maniacal laugh here vs, ha, ha funny laugh) that he lost his phone. If I had $1,000 for every time I’ve heard some variation on this theme, I’d have around $4,000-5,000 dollars right now. After ignoring him another 3 days in the hope that he’d get the message; he apparently is also a bit thick skulled. I finally returned the same courtesy, and text him back calling him out on his lost phone story, calling him a flake, and telling him to stop calling me. He actually admitted as much, but did stop w/ the infernal text messaging.

Flaking out after the age of 25 is, well, it’s obviously done. I had guys flake-out on me in their 30’s, but 40’s??? Why? Just break it off. Or flake-out and don’t come back, period. But don’t flake and call, or rather, text me days later with some 10 year-olds excuse.

“I lost my phone,” “My phone fell in the toilet/sink/bath/beer,” “My phone dropped all of my stored numbers,” or any derivative thereof is the millennium's equivalent to “My dog ate my homework.” The likelihood of this being a true statement in the land of dating is highly unlikely. The likelihood that this could be a true statement if your sister tells you this complete with how it wasn’t just any toilet, but the toilet on the train to NYC, is more likely (and I actually know someone who did drop her phone in a pint). It does and can happen, but I don’t buy it when there’s a date involved in the equation.

Men and the dreaded text messaging. Ah, what better way to hide, then to pseudo-hide behind a 3 ½ inch piece of plastic and electronic chips! It’s magical really. He’s 6’2” and it’s just 3 1/2”, and although he can neither be seen nor heard; he cannot be accused of not communicating because he sent you a text message!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nevermind that he’s typed so fast w/ those big huge thumbs of his, you can’t make out half of what he’s tried to type and if that weren’t frustrating enough, it’s all internet abbreviated. BUT Your man communicates!! Yes he does! He’s a keeper, oh yeah.

The Island of Misfit BOYS

Went to a really bad singles mixer on Friday night. All I could think was “WTF? Am I at a gay event??” For once the men far out numbered the woman and yet 75% of them hung out with, and talked to their own kind. ‘Scuse me, did you not come here to meet women?? There were groups of 2, 3, 4 men all talking to each other. I stood at the bar for almost an hour before being approached. One might make an argument that I could’ve approached these men. Perhaps. Yet, I had a sense that would have scattered them like flies, only to land amongst another group of single mix-phobic men. And it’s not as though I was clustered w/ other women applying lipstick and staring into a mirror. I used open body language and made eye contact and smiled at several of them. Ugh, it was excruciating. The two men that did approach were alright. No, I take that back - one was alright, nice, a gentleman, all 4’11” of him. The other one was an attorney, nuff said (and seriously waaaaaay too much ego for patent law). For a smart guy, he made a huge leap from the A&E dot to the Realtor dot and had decided that I knew enough about architecture and the housing market to advise him on his house that he’s going to build somewhere in Virginia (although I'm in the A&E industry, I’m not an architect; nor am I a realtor).

Then there was the guy sitting in the corner of the bar that, if I were to interpret his body language alone, I’d swear was a junkie! He kept rolling his head and scratching himself (everywhere but there!), and looking around the room suspiciously. At one point I looked over and he had his pant leg up around his knee and he was tearing up his calf. I had to stifle a laugh. Heroin or psoriasis? I mean, come on, what woman can resist that?

This was sponsored by the same group that did the speed dating sessions I went to. I had much higher expectations for this event based on those. I keep thinking about the woman that works w/ MOD who gave this group such high marks. MOD says she’s an attractive woman, smart, self-assured. How she found a catch in this group is beyond me.