Date of the Week: Moon Landing!

For the month of July, the National Air and Space Museum will be celebrating the 40th anniversary of Apollo 11. NASM is one of my favorite museums in Washington, and this is the perfect chance to go check it out. The museum is open until 7:30 most days in the summer, with a few exceptions. So, why not plan to go a little later in the afternoon. Maybe around 4 or 5. Catch a show in the planetarium, then check out all the Apollo 11 artifacts, including the command module, Columbia, and some lunar rocks.

After the museum, head up 7th street to Rocket Bar in Chinatown. This is the point where I should remind you to wear shoes you can walk a few blocks in. I am not going to say "comfortable walking shoes" because, that brings to mind visions of ugly tourist sandals. Cute shoes can be comfortable. Please find a pair that are. And wear those.

Anyway, back to Rocket Bar. Grab a few drinks and challenge your date to a game of skee ball (my favorite!) or shuffle board. If you're into more serious bar games, they also have pool tables and dart boards. But, really, where's the excitement in playing generic bar games? Save it for your buddies.

After a few drinks, you can keep with the space theme and take a cab up to Georgetown for dinner at Paper Moon. If you're going on a Friday or Saturday, you might want to make reservations beforehand. There is a lot of foot traffic in Georgetown on the weekends and restaurants tend to fill up pretty fast.

This is the Reason You Couldn't Get a Date

Back in high school, I was asked out on my very first "real" date by a man we'll call Brutus. This was early enough in high school that neither one of us could drive, so we had to rely on parental transportation. (Oh the shame...)

Brutus was a soccer jock, kinda pasty pale skin, and red hair to match. My boyfriend is a redhead now, but wasn't this pale. Brutus also had oddly shaped freckles that seemed to be spattered across his face and body with no particular rhyme, reason, or symmetry that I could see.

Nevertheless, I was excited for my first date. My parents were too, which is always embarrassing... but at least mine didn't show up with a camera like his did. No, it wasn't prom, homecoming, or any other dress-up event that would have actually warranted and been justified in having a picture to commemorate its occurrence. I had no idea where we were headed on this date of ours, but I was ready to get going after the tenth photo.

Clearly, the date was starting off right. Brutus' parents drove us to the local bowling alley, setting up shop just two lanes down the way - as if that was far enough to give us space without actually bowling with us. It might have actually fooled us, except his Dad would cheer everytime Brutus hit more than three or four pins. On the bright side, at least they didn't offer to put us on the bumper lane.

After we finished our two games, his parents drove us back to his place for a movie. Once there, they actually left us pretty much alone... and I look back on it and realize how good I had it when they were around.

It was more than just a lack of chemistry that kept me from ever seeing Brutus again. It really came down to self-preservation. Brutus was a dirty minded boy. The sorts of things he was asking me to do (or saying we could do down the road) are things even today as a grown professional woman I would never consider. I was shocked! I wasn't completely sheltered growing up, but I sure as hell wasn't prepared for some of his suggestions of what we should spend some time doing.

1. If I were to ever have had sex with him, leaving pets in the room was never something I would consciously plan for. He actually proposed that we might be more "excited" if "someone... even an animal..." was watching.
2. I don't care how much you like fixing cars or the smell of vehicular residue, but pouring things on my body that you would find in a car is not even remotely something to suggest if you expect an affirmative response.
3. I don't like the idea of being tied up or restricted - and bungee cords is the absolute weirdest fetish I have heard to accomplish this task to this very day.

You may be wondering how in the world this conversation came up. I was wondering the same thing! I asked him what movie we were going to watch and he suggested we "talk" a bit first. At first I was pleased, but when he introduced the subject.. well I was no longer happy with the situation.

Needless to say, I was disgusted and disturbed. I made a solemn promise to myself to never go on another date with Brutus.

When Brutus first called to ask me out again, I simply said I was busy. In the next couple calls, I wasn't feeling well. After that, it became quite the production to come up with excuses on why I couldn't go out with him anymore. He called - every other day - for three months. I think back on it and I'm pretty sure it was because no girl would ever go out with him again. That would explain his parents taking so many pictures - I guess they were as shocked as I am now that he ever got a girl to go out with him.'

Of COURSE I would never go out with him again! I mean, really?

At some point, Brutus did figure out that I wasn't ever going to be "available" for him again. He took the "Breakup" badly and he hated me for the rest of high school. He badmouthed me and even tried to convince guys who I later dated that they "could do better" than me. Well, if by doing better, he meant someone who would play along with his sick little fetish games - in HIGH SCHOOL - then yes, there were far better women than me out there. They were called tramps.

Skid Row Bums

Fred had a relative whom his family ridiculed for a vareity of reasons. One of the most ridiculous was the fact that, despite being well past potty-training age (able-bodied and of normal intelligence), she still would not wipe her own rear.

Fred, on the other hand, was in his mid-twenties and did wipe his own rear, however the responsibility proved to be too much for him. Despite years of practice, he still had not mastered the art of properly cleaning himself. I don't mean to single out Fred. Shrek was just as bad about this. This is more of a general rant.

Dating Shrek was terrible because every single pair of boxers he owned had...evidence of wear. And Fred was so bad that every single surface in his apartment that he had ever sat on smelled like what comes out of one's bottom. It was absolutely foul. I couldn't sit on his sofa without smelling poo.

It just completely blows my mind that the men I used to date would wear roomy boxers and still manage to get their butt juice on them, while I wear thongs -- underwear designed to go up my ass -- and they still are stain-free.

Both of these men tried to defend their wiping skills, claiming that men just have leaky butts. Um, no, not all men do. In fact, in my experience I have found that most do not.

Just to make sure I am not dating the exceptions, I asked some girlfriends about their experience with men having this problem. Then, I asked some men if they personally had this problem. My conclusion is that this is not a normal condition. If your butt is leaking, you really need to go to the doctor and have that problem addressed. Your underwear should not be covered in stains. Your furniture should not smell.

Seriously, boys, you are disgusting. Go to a doctor.

Date of the Week: Kayaking!

My first job was working at a boat rental center, so I have a thing for small watercraft. If paddle boats in the tidal basin are a little too dorky for your liking, you can always try kayaking in the Potomac. For this, I would recommend wearing something casual. Shorts and a t-shirt. You'll get a little wet from paddling, and we all know how clean the Potomac is, so don't wear white.

For $10 an hour, you and your date can get a double kayak from the Thompson Boat Center. If they're out of boats, you can try Jack's, which is up the river a little more. They're a little bit more expensive though.

Some days, there is more of a current than others, but regardless, I would suggest rowing upstream first. Once you get past the key bridge, there is a lot to see. It is surprisingly calm for being just a few hundred yards away from the hustle and bustle of Georgetown. The Three Sisters Rock formation marks the farthest point navigable by larger boats, so after you get past there, you can relax and just drift for a bit. I've seen a lot of people kayak up here then bird-watch. If that's your thing, go for it. Otherwise, just sit back and enjoy the scenery.

Some people BYOB on their kayaks and crack one open at this point. I am going to be a nerd here and say don't do that. You should not operate any watercraft, motorized or not, under the influence. But, definitely bring some water, it gets a little hot on the water sometimes.

The good thing about rowing against the current to start off with is that you can coast back downriver to the boat center. Of course, be mindful of the other boats in the water, you may want to stay closer to the shore so you're out of the way of motorboat operators who may have had a few too many.

After returning your kayak, continue your day of river fun by grabbing an outside table overlooking the Potomac at Nick's for lunch and a few drinks. The Georgetown Waterfront is a great place for people-watching and is a very chill environment, especially during the day. It will be a nice break after all that rowing.

Nitwit Picnic

We've all been picky eaters at some point in our lives. My sister doesn't eat anything that is white. My fiance doesn't eat seafood (or vegetables unless I disguise them). I don't eat Chinese or Thai food. We all have our quirks, but if we were seated in an average, American restaurant we could piece together a complete meal, perhaps with some minor modifications (hold the mayo, etc).

Officer/Gentleman took picky eating to an extreme. He could not put together a complete meal at one restaurant, in part due to a sensitive stomach (everything made him sick but that is its own separate, disgusting post), but primarily due to obsessive eating habits. Dining with him was akin to a scavenger hunt: we needed a fruit, a vegetable, a source of protein and some creatine.

It would start on a Saturday morning after he got out of bed (around 11 AM). He would decide instead of patronizing the nearby Waffle House (it made him sick), or the coffee shop (it wasn't healthy), we would drive 20 minutes to the nearest Smoothie King for a delightful morning smoothie (with added supplements).

Now, I have been known to enjoy the occasional smoothie but I need two things for my first meal of the day: coffee and substantial solid food. Otherwise, I am weak, caffeine-deprived and cranky. This becomes even more important after a night of late-night drinking (O/G's favorite activity), because you can add "hungover" to the list of less-than-pleasant traits I possessed. You'd think after dating me for four years, he would have figured this out, but that would mean paying attention to someone besides himself.

So after we got a smoothie, we would head next door to Panera Bread for a cup of chicken noodle soup. But that's all we could get because everything else made him sick. If I dared to order anything else, he would tell me how unhealthy it was (because drinking an 800-calorie meal-replacement smoothie with god knows what kind of muscle-building powder in it as your first course is downright nutritious). I could, however, order a cup of coffee, provided I wanted to listen to him complain about how expensive it was.

Then, it was time for protein, and his favorite form of protein was a chicken sandwich from Zaxby's (on the other side of town). So away we'd go to Zaxby's for round three, where we would eat chicken sandwiches (but no fries because they made him sick).

It was like a cross between a progressive dinner party and the Bataan Death March.

From time to time, we go out to dinner at a restaurant (just one restaurant). He would usually concede, and even let me pick the place, but then once there, he would do weird things like order potato skins with a side of smashed cauliflower. This would confuse the waitress to no end as she pondered which of those selections was to be served alongside my entree.

For someone with stomach issues, he sure did eat weird things. Perhaps because by "stomach", he meant "control".

Psychological Case Study: Fred

In the tradition of making psychological judgements about my exes based on their care for pets, I bring you Fred.

Fred had a pet budgie in college. His name was Buddy. Then a hurricane came. No, not that one. So, Fred decided that he would take Buddy with him while he evacuated. I guess his deadbeat roommates didn't want the hassle of carrying the bird around.

Before we left, I explained to Fred that it was a risky idea since birds are very sensitive to climate and pressure changes. I noted that my friend growing up had had a budgie and that they had to keep it away from the front door, as drafts could eventually kill the bird. I even suggested he find someone else to take the bird, knowing that a car trip was risky, especially with the way Fred smokes in his car and opens the windows most of the time he is driving.

When we loaded Buddy into the car, I buckled his cage in, removed any toys that could fly around and possible hit him, and covered the cage with a sheet to protect him from drafts. Fred started to open the windows, and I stopped him, explaining (AGAIN) that the draft is not good for the bird.

Five minutes into the trip, Fred rolled down the window and started smoking, blowing the air from the window and the smoke toward Buddy's cage. I told him not to do that. I explained that he would need to limit his smoking breaks to a couple times a day as to not make his budgie sick. Of course he did not listen, and spent the entire trip chain smoking, letting the wind and smoke fly into Buddy's cage.

I don't want to go into details, but little Buddy did die on that trip. Fred's selfishness caused him to irreparably harm his pet.

It is unfair to accept the responsibility to care for something when you have no intention of actually doing so. At first, this event seems to illustrate Fred being absentminded. But, given that I had told him several times not to open the window, it really just shows his utter selfishness and insistence on putting his own wants over the needs of others. Once again, Fred's treatment of his pet should have been a clear sign of how he would eventually act toward me.

Date of the Week: The Zoo!

When I was in college, my animal behavior courses meant spending long hours doing research at the zoo. As a result, I am a total nerd about zoos and the best way to win me over is to take me on a date to one. Of course, you don't have to be a nerd to enjoy the zoo -- and it's a great place to take a date for a casual, cheap and fun day.

The National Zoo is on a steep hill, so you will certainly get a work-out looking at all the animals. So, I'd recommend starting off your day with a hearty breakfast from Open City, which is next to the Woodley Park Metro Station. Unless you get there super-early, you'll probably have to wait a little bit for a table. This will give you a chance to talk with your date and find out all about his background. I love the breakfast at Open City. My favorite menu item is the Chai Tea Waffle, and my boyfriend loves the omelets. The environment here is ultra-casual -- you can wear just about anything. The restaurant gets pretty crowded, but the tables are spaced so you won't feel like you have people sitting on top of you.

After breakfast, it's just a short walk up the hill to the National Zoo. The thing I love most about the National Zoo is that, like other Smithsonian Museums in Washington, it is free. Make sure you check out the outdoor exhibits at the Bird House. These tend to be less crowded than a lot of the other exhibits. And the beautiful scenery makes for a great place to steal a kiss. The good thing about a zoo date is that there is plenty of time to talk to your date, and the animals make great conversation starters. Alternatively, if you're not in the mood to chat, the animals are a good distraction, so silence will no e awkward. Basically, whatever your conversation style, you will be comfortable at the zoo.

All the exhibits at the zoo are worth checking out. You may have to wade through crowds for more popular ones (the pandas). You'll definitely want to take a break from the heat by slipping into some of the indoor exhibits, like the Small Mammal House and the Reptile Discovery Center. After some walking, grab an ice cream from the concession stand, or a vending machine and sit in the shade by the sea lions.

A day at the zoo is a unique and fun date that is a good change of pace from the usual dinner and drinks outing. It's cheap enough for an intern without feeling like a budget date.

Check Him Out : Old Ebbitt Grill

First of all, if anyone out there has the Lisa Frank "Check Him Out" picture, let me know. I can't seem to find it anywhere on the Internet, which is truly a shame.

Anyway, on to business. Old Ebbitt Grill is across the street from the White House and the Treasury. I absolutely love the back bar at Ebbitt's. This is the type of bar you wouldn't be ashamed to take your parents to. Details such as hooks under the bar for coats and a heavy lip on the edge of the bar to prevent drinks from being knocked-off really give this place a clean, welcoming feel. Turn-of-the-century details adorn this restaurant, including some of the most interesting knick-knacks you've ever seen. This is the type of place you'd imagine your great-grandparents going for a drink. Everything about it screams "classic." So, naturally, the type of men you can expect to meet here are, well, classic.

Ebbitts attracts a crowd of lawyer and lobbyist types, mainly in their 30's. The best time to meet men is at happy hour during the week. If you're an independent woman who needs time for her own career and social obligations, this is the place to meet your man. The career-focused men here work long hours, meaning if you snag one, you'll have to be willing to accept only seeing him a couple of times a week. If you're the type of woman who wants her boyfriend to be constantly present, look somewhere else. The men here are the smart, sophisticated, politically-savvy types you'd expect to find in DC. Another perk to meeting men here: the male-to-female ratio is stacked in your favor, ladies. Plus, these guys don't go out much, so if you're a cute girl in her 20's (even if you're only DC cute), you're going to get a lot of attention at Ebbitt's happy hour.



To meet a man at Ebbitt's, come after work later in the week. Wear your cutest work clothes (something that is chic, but still professional), bring a couple of girlfriends, and a lot of business cards. If you get there a little early, you can secure seats at the bar and chat it up with guys as they come by to order drinks.

New Features

In the interest of putting a more positive spin on dating, we've decided to add two new features to LoserEx.

First, there will be Date of the Week which I will try to post each Wednesday (that way you guys have time to find your date for the weekend). In this feature, I will make a suggestion for an inexpensive, fun date in Washington, DC. I'm going to try to avoid things like dinner and drinks, since I feel like we all go on way to many of those dates.

The next feature will be Check Him Out. This will be a less regular feature -- maybe once every three weeks or so. Check Him Out will review local places (mainly bars) in terms of meeting men. I will evaluate what type of man frequents various places and what type of woman should go to these places to meet men. On a related note, if you have the Lisa Frank "Check Him Out" picture (for which this feature was named), let me know. This picture is the best thing ever and would make a nice addition to this feature.

And, yes, there are still many more stories to come about the losers I've dated.

Psychological Case Study: Shrek

It is said that serial killers usually have a history of abusing animals. I am not accusing any of my exes of being serial killers, but I strongly believe the way one treats animals is a reflection of what kind of person he or she is.

In that vein, I strongly believe that the psychological problems of my exes can be expressed in anecdotes about their treatment of animals. This will be the first case study in a series about my exes.

As a sorority initiation gift, my big sis gave me a beta fish. It was super-awesome. I named it Captain Ron and loved it dearly. When the end of the semester came, I asked Shrek if I could take a fish on a plane or if I should ask someone who lives locally to board my beloved pet for the summer. His response: "You could put some bleach in the water and kill it."

Clearly, I had no desire to kill my pet. The question was how to make it live through the summer. For the record, I left it with a classmate who lived in town. My fish was alive and well when I returned from summer break. She even generously upgraded his bowl to a self-filtering tank.

On a similar note, Shrek had a dog back home. He kept it outside, year round. Even though the place he lived was known for being particularly cold. One day, he got off the phone with his mom and without emotion declared "I no longer have a dog." His parents had put the dog down. Not because it was terminally ill, or fatally wounded. They put it down because they didn't feel like having a dog anymore.

In both the dog and the fish case, he proved that he was comfortable killing things that were no longer convenient to have around. This inability to feel compassion for living things or respect for life should have been a clear indicator of what was to come in our relationship. I suppose I should be happy I got out before his aggression resulted in me being like to dog and the fish.

Screaming Infidelities

I'll be the first to admit that my moral compass does not always point true north. However, there are things that even I wouldn't do. Being the "other woman" is one of them.

Shrek had an ex. I'm going to call her Vikki. He painted the picture that she was crazy. Maybe she was. He carried Vikki's senior picture around in his wallet. At first I figured that he just never got around to taking it out. Then I realized that she was a senior after he had started college, so he would have gotten it after they had broken up. The whole time we were dating, the picture stayed in his wallet. I should also add that she wasn't really very pretty. Not that it matters to the story. It just matters to me. Grossly enough, a flirty picture of his 12 year-old cousin also maintained residence in his wallet the entire time we were dating.

One day, I finally got a little annoyed with the wallet picture issue and asked him why he still carried it. He told me Vikki would get mad if it wasn't there and she checked every time he was home. Um, why was Vikki even checking his wallet? Why the hell does she care if an ex has her picture or not? Weird.

Anyway, I tried not to think about Vikki, since she was in the boonie town Shrek was from, and we were thousands of miles away from that place. There were times when I suspected he never broke up with Vikki, that she didn't even know about me. But I wanted to trust him, so I would convince myself that was not happening. I convinced myself that she knew I existed and respected that I was dating her ex.

Well, I was half right.

Shrek mentioned a conversation with Vikki that took place online. And from his description, it sounded inappropriate. I pried for more information, but he flipped out and told me it was none of my business.

Well, of course this made me want to know about the conversation that much more. So, when I got to his room, I checked his chat log. In front of him. And wow. I normally do not ever condone spying on your boyfriend, but this time, it was totally warranted.

It started off innocently enough...

Vikki: Hey!!!!
Shrek: Hey
Vikki: How are you?
Shrek: Good, how are you?

Then, it got shady...

Vikki: I'm great. Are you still dating that girl?
Shrek: yeah
Vikki: Are you faithful? ;-)

What. The. Fuck.

His answer was basically a coy "no," but that's not nearly as interesting as the fact she would even ask this. I mean, where the hell is this even acceptable?

To me, this is like asking "Do you still have a dog? Do you still feed it?" In my mind, being faithful to someone is a required and assumed part of dating them.

This girl was desperately trying to steal my boyfriend. Who the hell does that? I mean, really, does she think that some guy who bangs her on the side will eventually start dating her and they will actually have a healthy relationship that does not involve banging other sluts on the side?

That's fucking delusional. Vikki, Shrek, where ever you two are, I hope you end up together. You deserve each other.

Quirkiness is Not a Star Quality

Remember how your mom used to tell you that certain things build character? Typically referring to some kind of hardship that truly you should never have had to endure: mowing the lawn, going to one of your parent's friends homes when you could have been out playing, breaking your arm, etc.

Unfortunately, none of these prepared you for quirky habits of guys you would later date. Believe me, none of these things build character - at least not the kind you want built. The TV channel USA's new slogan is "character fantasy," where television actors have strange habits they want you to emulate, or form your own to be shared on nationally broadcast TV shows.

But quirkiness has it's price. 

Example 1: Deigo walks on his tip-toes. EVERYWHERE. You didn't really notice it until you saw him walk barefoot. At least a few times I thought he was about to fall forward but he caught himself again and kept walking. Even in high school, Deigo was called the tip-toe bandit. He played football. Apparently that made sense in the context of the game, but either way, he's pretty proud of it.

Walking on tip-toes, constantly... well you look a little odd, but for the most part its unnoticable and the kind of quirky that makes people laugh, not cringe.

Example 2:

Neanderthal and I rode to school together in high school. I drove since I had a car and a parking permit for the lot. What drove me crazy, and was, quite frankly very odd, was that he would rock forward and back in the passenger seat. Music wouldn't even be playing and he would rock. It had no rythym to speak of, just the back and forth, back and forth... like a kid on a rocking horse. There never even seemed to be a purpose!

Rocking with no express purpose, need, or motivation... freakin odd.

Example 3:

Sasquatch had a very disconcerting evening ritual. He would remove his necklace, which had a medallion with a creepy symbol of some sort. It had character, the kind I like. What I did NOT like was the weird thing he did with it.

After taking the necklace off, he would tap it three times on the beside table, then lay it in a circle. Next, he would take the small book next to his bed, which I believe was a journal of some sort. He would:

Open it,
Read a passage
Close the book
Touch it to his forehead
Place it back down on the table.

W.
T.
F.

I don't like to wonder if the guy I'm dating is a member of the occult. Therefore, don't proceed to learn any strange rituals and then NOT explain them when asked. The least Sasquatch could do was assuage my fears that the Devil was going to get me.

Lesson learned? Don't be too quirky. There's a fine line between cute, odd, and just plain loser.

Fred Exposes Himself to Many Things

Fred had a penchant for exposing himself. It was ridiculous.

I know guys seem to think exposing themselves is hilarious. It's not. It's especially not funny when it happens all the freaking time. If I were truly petty, I would tell you how embarrassingly small his junk is and that he was most likely just doing it to try to feel some sort of acceptance for his not-so-well-endowed member. But, I'm not petty. So, I will not tell everyone that he was lacking in his pants.

Fred constantly would be the guy at parties, social gatherings, dinners or study sessions who felt the need to pull his junk out of his pants and wait for someone to notice. It was completely childish. It was completely disgusting. And it completely alienated people. The worst part is, this behavior was not limited to the privacy of his own house parties. He did it everywhere.

I recall one particular incident in the parking garage in which he realized his jorts were slipping down his waist, so he decided just to push them all the way down and shuffle with them around his ankles. And, yes, he was going commando that day.

I recall another (post-college) incident in which he decided to return from the bathroom at a party my friend was throwing sans pants. In a room full of people he had just met. If he hadn't ruined his chance of making friends that night earlier, he certainly had after exposing himself. Not to mention, it was completely humiliating for me to have my boyfriend expose himself to the first people I had met after moving to a new city.

Of course, there are other stories I have heard about Fred exposing himself, but I did not experience them first hand. Since I am not here to spread rumors, I will not bring them up. But, trust me, Fred's privates have been seen by more people than Jenna Jameson's.

I could go on forever about stories of Fred's junk. But, really, they're pretty much all the same, just different places, different people. I honestly do not understand the fascination men have with their own genitals. Look guys, they're really not all that interesting. And we really don't want to see it. Women are not turned on by you showing yourself at formal events.

Fred, keep it in your pants.

Twitter Hijacked!

Hey folks,

Our Twitter account was hijacked by some Arizona "COP" who is old and heinous looking. We hope he croaks.

RGB and BJA.

Update: We got back in. We deleted him. Stay tuned for a new twitter!

Update: New Twitter is up and running. Sidebar now has the correct address.

Requiem for My Love Life

Fred decided one day that he wanted to watch "Requiem for a Dream." Since no one owned this movie on DVD (it is far too depressing for most people to want to watch more than once), he decided to go rent it from the local Blockbuster. This was located next door to the Circle K, where he went every single day to buy cigarettes, so it seemed like it would be easy to take it back after two days (this was before the whole 'no late fee' thing).

Well, I suppose taking the movie back managed to slip his mind every day for two months. Until one day when I was in his apartment and one of his roommates commented that the movie had been sitting there forever. Another roommate said that Fred didn't really care about bringing it back because it was on RGB's account. Fred laughed at this. The part that pissed me off was the fact that I know he had probably said this to his roommates earlier. He really thought it would be quite funny to stick me with an outrageous bill for his laziness.

But, I was the one who would get the last laugh.

"I don't have a Blockbuster account." I casually said. "So, it must have been on Fred's."

At that point, Fred screamed a word I will not put on here and immediately ran out to take the DVD back.

Funny how it was a game to not take it back when it meant sticking me with the bill. But as soon as it involved him, he was out the door before even bothering to put on clothes he didn't sleep in.

A week later, his parents called regarding the bill and I got to hear him lie to them by saying he returned that movie the day after he got it and it must be a mistake on their end.

Well, I've Never Been to Spain...

...But I have had creepy older men hit on me.

When I was 18 and living in New Orleans, I was walking out of a movie theatre downtown with some girlfriends to find a cab. A drunk man who was old enough to be my father comes running across the street to our group.

He approaches me and in slurred speech asks "Hey, did you hear about the amateur strip contest at [redacted]?"

Not sure what to make of it, I responded honestly that, no, I had not heard about such an event.

"Well, you should have gone! You would have won for sure!"

Aside from the obvious old man creep factor, I should also mention that I was wearing jeans, a t-shirt and flip-flops. Hardly anything even remotely sexy. Especially considering that there were countless other women dressed in much sexier clothing around me.

He then proceeded to try to entice me to enter the next contest, telling me that there was a big cash prize for the winner. He was apparently oblivious to the fact that I was not comfortable having this conversation and was frantically trying to hail a cab to get away from him.

Weirdo.

But, in all honesty, there's no way in hell I would ever win a stripping contest. I am way too clumsy. Me getting on a stripper pole would end with a trip to the emergency room.

You Make Me Sick

Social norms across countries are randomly different (nothing new there), occasionally surprising (which can be fun), and far-too-often down-right disgusting. There are just some things that I've experienced in other countries that were beyond my normal acceptance of social differences, and crossed the line into - you're still disgusting in my book.

Madrid, Spain.

On a trip to Spain last year, my family and I stopped in Madrid. As I was also in the midst of the leasing process on a new apartment, I made frequent trips to a local computer cafe to take care of my business at home.


I've accepted that there are men and women out there who get their jollies from exploring illicit sites on the internet. I'd even partly prepared myself to experience such a thing while I was abroad. However, I was utterly floored to find that, even in Spain, this was considered "ok" enough to be used as a flirtation method.


I went into the cafe, ready to send another nasty email to the landlords who were being a$$s about the whole moving ordeal, when I noticed the 30ish year old man next to me was looking at porn. I quickly averted my eyes and continued working. But the man kept smiling at me! When he said something in Spanish, I could only grasp but a few words - enough to know he was calling me pretty and something about pictures. Maybe you'll come to the same conclusion as me, but all I could think of was... disgusting.

I mean really. Who sees a girl in a random cafe and thinks to themselves... well I'm looking at porn maybe she's into it. I don't care where you live or what language you speak, there's a line there! We weren't in the red light district, I was not dressed provacatively, and I certainly wasn't trying to get his attention.

Perhaps this guy isn't quite a "loser-ex" by our standard definiton, but it only appears that way since I refused to pose and/or go with him anywhere anyway. Had I done so, I have no doubt that he would have ended up on this blog. Fortunately, I have class.

Ladies, don't lower yourself to date a man who would ask you to pose for porn. Especially if he doesn't speak your language and is doing so in a public cafe, proudly "showing" why he wants you to do so.

Fred's Dirty Laundry

In college, one thing that annoyed me was when people using the laundry rooms would not promptly remove their clothes from the machines after the cycles. Now, I understand being a few minutes late, but several hours? Come on. Often, I would see laundry sit in machines, finished, for the entire time it took my clothes to be washed, dried and folded. This was especially annoying when there was a shortage of machines.

The Resident Director of my dorm junior year apparently felt my pain on the matter and plastered signs all over the laundry room threatening to donate unattended clothes to charity. Overkill? Probably. Passive-aggressive? Definitely. But, I understood her underlying concern.

Well, Fred did not. He was one of those loath-able laundry leavers. And not just the extra hour variety. He was, by far, the worst laundry leaver I have ever encountered. Frequently, he would put his clothes in the washing machine, go to class for a few hours, move them to the dryer, go out drinking, and then take them out of the laundry room the next morning. And this was when he was on top of the laundry situation. Usually, this process would take much longer. Laundry time was frequently a multi-day event for Fred. This was particularly disturbing considering he did not even start the laundry process until he had been forced to go commando for at least 4 days.

Well, after one particularly long laundry run (five days, to be exact), he returned to the laundry room to find his clothes, and the suitcase in which he brought them to the laundry room, gone. Apparently at some point during those five days, the Resident Director had made good on her promise.

This particular batch of clothes included such gems as: the pink parachute pants, the yellow button down tie-dye shirt, and a plethora of Hawaiian shirts.

Needless to say, I was not sorry for his loss.

Kissin' You Off

When I was in high school, I was shy and not particularly "lucky" in love. I had never kissed a boy. I know! Some girls were all over it in middle school. Not me, I didn't even get my first kiss until my 16th birthday party.

There are two stories here, with two entirely different goals by melding them into one post, besides the fact they took place over the same event.

1. Boys are dumb in high school, and they make things up to match the "reality" of what they envision their lives to be.

2. Boys are cruel in high school, not realizing the implications of their actions, nor how easily they'll become as targets of catty-fun blogs like this in the future of the girls they cross.

So here we go. We'll call these two gentleman Meathead Dumb and Meathead Mean.

Both Meatheads, along with some of their friends and a few other high school hot shots, were invited to my 16th birthday party. Sad as it was, I had it at my place with my parents chaperoning. I realize now what a mistake that was, but honestly the rents were pretty cool with the whole thing. They even splurged for the margarita mix - sans tequila unfortunately.

That didn't stop Meathead Dumb, though. Most teenagers, even with the most juvenile and naive of brains, realize that margaritas mix must have tequila added to reach any sort of alcoholic content. MD decided, in his infinite high school wisdom, to chug the entire bottle of the mix - again, sans alcohol. Yet, he must not have known this, as he yelled at the top of his lungs to the entire party, "I'M WASTEDDDDDD!"

Umm, no MD. You're not. There's no alcohol in that. I wish I could tell you otherwise because I'd have been launched to high school stardom right then, but there's not and I never did.

So, moment to laugh at the idiocy that we women had to choose from in high school. You know you had at least one of these dimwits. Don't lie.

Meanwhile, Meathead Mean decided we should all play truth or dare. This was high school - so yes, of course I thought this was a brilliant idea. Up until I chose truth. MM asked me how far I had gone with a guy. To my own credit, I was honest. To my discredit, I was dumb enough to ask if hugging or holding hands was farther. (I was so naive in high school, I really was. I won't even pretend I was remotely cool.)

Later, MM took me aside on my trampoline out back under the stars... I'll let you awww at the effect that had on my cute little birthday-lovin self. MM said, "So... you've really never even kissed a guy?" I blushed and I think I left it at that. Like I wanted to admit that again! So MM decided to give me a birthday present, and he kissed me. My first kiss!

Yet, there's a reason MM is called mean. Monday at school, MM denied having even attended my party, let alone kissing me. My friends apparently had a pretty big mouth about what had happened that night. But the thing that made me really angry was the denial. I'd be less offended if he just said he got drunk and made out with someone he shouldn't have.

(Note: I've made myself sound somehow unfortunate looking - I'm not. I'm not super hot, but I'm reasonably attractive - I avoided the ugly stick and the awkward stick. However, I was incredibly unpopular in high school. And it doesn't matter how attractive or unattractive you were at my school since we had access to plastic surgery - you didn't get anywhere if you didn't put out or weren't one of the cliquie "cool" kids.)

After all of this, during our senior year when I had finally come into my own and figured out what I wanted, and didn't want - when I was dating someone steadily (albeit String Bean, who will continue to be the butt of the majority of my posts and jokes ) - MM asks me to come to his graduation party. This is after he and a few of his friends had bad mouthed me throughout high school.

I promptly told him, "why would I want to go to a party of yours? Mine never happened, right?"

Hell yeah I brought it back from two years prior. That's what you DO in high school. I had figured out what a fair-weathered friend was, and who to trust and not to trust. Living up to who was "popular" and who wasn't, was not my thing.

Who denies getting some in high school? Seriously? Call it vindictive or call it vengeance - either way, Meathead had it coming!

These Boots Were Made For ... Something

I love shoes. My closet has 4 racks of them overflowing and I still think I need more. Naturally, I do not expect the men I date to understand or share my love of footwear. I would probably be freaked out if I ever met a guy whose shoe collection rivaled my own. But, I do expect them to have the basics. This includes sneakers, flip-flops, loafers, and most importantly, some shoes to wear to work (one pair in black, one in brown).

I am not picky about what one's work shoes are. As long as they are dress shoes. And that is a very large range. While there are particular styles I do not care for (buckles on shoes remind me of pilgrims), I am willing to overlook personal tastes as long as the shoes are work appropriate.

Well, apparently Fred missed the memo of appropriate work footwear. He insisted on wearing the same inappropriate footwear every time he wore his slacks: a pair of ten-year-old Dr. Martin boots. I will give this a second to sink in.

They weren't like the 18 eye black boots that you're probably thinking. Nope, they were the dorky little brother of those. They looked like hiking boots, which was a little weird because Fred never really did anything that involved exerting even the slightest amount of energy.

He wore these stupid-ass boots to work with his slacks every day. Winter, summer, rain, snow, whatever, these boots were on his feet. I am honestly fascinated that no one ever told him his shoes were not appropriate.

Well, time went by, and I had forgotten about these boots. The rare times I did think of them, I assumed that he was young and stupid and had since picked up on social norms and ditched the boots for a pair of dress shoes to wear to the office.

Then I saw him. Still wearing the same fucking wrinkled slacks, button down short sleeved shirt and the boots. Those stupid boots. Jesus, if his current girlfriend has even an iota of good taste, she will take those things and burn them.

But, I don't think that's likely.