Nice guys continue to finish last

Senior year in high school I dated this guy who was really good to me and a really nice guy but he just wasn't my penguin. I am destined to rule the world and he just wasn't ambitious enough for me. He was perfectly nice though.

So nice that after we broke up and he started dating a different girl and got her pregnant (although she was a little bit loose so I'm not 100 percent sure the child is his) he married her because that's the right thing to do (the wrong thing to do would be to tell her you'll drive her to the abortion clinic). See how nice he is?

Anyways because he is so nice, I feel really bad about saying this, but by definition he is a loser ex. And lucky for me my best friend from high school still keeps tabs on him and updates me on his life. Apparently he is now working at the Panera Bread across the street from her office. I told you he had no ambition. But the thought of him actually working to support his family (as opposed to saying "I'll drive you to the abortion clinic" four years ago) is really touching for some reason.

But it does drive home the point that nice guys really do finish last and that's sad. I'm still not going to date a professed nice guy though (not that sad).

Nice guys finish last...with me

I hate nice guys. There, I said it. Every guy in the world bitches that girls say they like nice guys, but then never go out with them. They whine that they want girls to admit they like assholes. Fine, here it comes: I like assholes. Granted, 90% of the guys who make this claim are not, in fact, what I would consider to be nice, and are either huge jerks, or have some other reason that makes them undateable (e.g. they’re obese or ugly). But, as for the 10% of guys who make this claim and actually are nice, I just want to say that I would never date any of you either.

The nice guy is one who is a complete push-over. He is nice to everyone, and he is controlled by everyone. He allows himself to be completely whipped by a girl who doesn’t even date him, as evident in his claims that he “is always there for her when she complains about the assholes she dates” or “goes out of his way to take care of her.” Look, you might think this makes you a catch, but you’re wrong. If you’re willing to let someone who is not dating you have so much power over you, you’ll basically let anyone have that power. You’ll develop deep intimate friendships with other women while we’re dating (and according to Triver’s Parental Investment Theory, this is more hurtful to women than you having an affair). You’ll blow me off for our Friday night plans at the last minute because little Suzie-just-a-friend has broken-up with her “asshole” boyfriend. You’ll have to comfort her, since you’re just such a nice guy.

When I date a guy, I want his full attention. I do not want to compete with the other women in his life. As far as I am concerned, there will be not other women in his life (with the exception of relatives) while we are dating. Otherwise, he is a crappy boyfriend with whom I will never truly be happy. You might think this is unreasonable, but hey, I'm not the one who can't get a date here.

The other problem with Mr. Nice Guy is his complete inability to stand-up to anyone. I want a guy with balls. I want someone who will stand-up to his friends when they talk shit about me. I want a guy who will figuratively throw down the gauntlet and challenge the jackass (even if it is his best friend) who slighted my honor to a duel. Hell, bonus points if he does it literally.

I could go on forever about how a nice guy is just undesirable. But, since I am just so nice myself, I am going to give you a few tips on how to actually get the girl:

1) DO NOT HAVE TONS OF FEMALE FRIENDS! I cannot stress this enough. If you can’t live by this, then at least don’t let them hang all over you, and don’t be friends with the slutty ones.

2) Stand-up for me. Really, grow some damn balls and stand-up to your bitter alcoholic, gossipy, conniving bitch of a friend.

3) Don’t let yourself become whipped by a chick with the idea that it will make her fall in love with you. Yes, I like to boss guys around, but I do not respect the ones who let me do it without dating me. If you let me do it, and we’re not together, I can assume you let everyone do it. I like a challenge. I want to work towards having you whipped, don’t give it all up too soon. This is the male equivalent to a woman having sex on the first date. If you do this, we will not respect you, and not want to date you.

4) Do not tell me you’re a nice guy. I hate this. I will think you're lying. If you say it, I will just think you’re a huge ass, and are bitter that you can’t get a second date (maybe even a first). Even if I believe you, this still isn't a good situation because, I (duh) don't like nice guys. I don't care about how every girl has dicked you over because you're just too nice. This is so desperate sounding, and I don’t date for charity.

5) No whining. Please. Only chicks do this. If I wanted to hear whining from my significant other, I would be a lesbian.

That covers the biggest issues. Of course, there are more ways to not be the nice guy no self-respecting woman would even consider dating, but it’s about time you took the initiative and did something for yourself. Find it out on your own. I’m not your damn life coach.

...and yes, this same entry is posted on my other blog.

It's my party

The saddest thing about this story is that this guy is not an ex. He's a current. Definitely not my current, but my friend's. They've been together for four or five years and this is not the first time this has happened.

Last night was boyfriend's birthday party. We all assembled at his apartment around 8PM. I went to college with boyfriend, girlfriend and a few other guests. I didn't know anyone else but we're all in the same career field so we bonded quickly and started playing flipcup. Boyfriend was drunk out of his mind.

At one point, boyfriend challenges girlfriend to a one-on-one five-cup game. Girlfriend, being significantly less drunk, easily wins the game. Boyfriend gets mad. Really really mad. He tells girlfriend, in front of all guests, "I am going to punch you in the face". Male guests take boyfriend outside for a cigarette. Female guests stay inside with girlfriend and start getting ready to go out.

The men come back in and appear to be much calmer. We head out, hail some cabs and head downtown. Boyfriend and girlfriend are in separate cabs. We arrive at boyfriend's chosen celebration location--a lesbian bar (yeah, I'm serious). We all go inside, grab some beers, the girls start dancing, the guys sit back and watch the lesbians grab each others' asses, the girls realize that this is a lesbian bar and are slightly intimidated by the women that could easily benchpress the birthday boy (who probably weighs 230). A few girls head to the bathroom and when they come out, the party is being escorted out of the bar.

Cluelessly, I ask the bouncer why we have to go. The bouncer points to boyfriend and says "he just threw her up against a wall". "Her" was girlfriend.

Outside, we decide the best thing to do is separate the two of them and take them back to their respecitive apartments. One male guest comes with girlfriend and me, back to boyfriend's apartment to get her cat and her overnight bag (and leave boyfriend's keys in the apartment) and the rest of the guests chase boyfriend through the streets of downtown.

We arrive at girlfriend's apartment, lock the door, sit down to make sure she's okay and boyfriend is pounding at the door, threatening to kick it down. He is looking for his keys. Girlfriend tells him his keys are in his apartment, to go home and they can discuss it in the morning. Male friend calls the cops. Boyfriend threatens to damage male friend's car. Male friend announces the cops are on their way. Boyfriend leaves and catches a cab back to his apartment.

Then he calls girlfriend on her cell phone and yells at her for calling the cops and potentially getting him arrested. Girlfriend apologizes, tells him she loves him and that she'll see him in the morning. Male friend and I are stunned.

Cops come, complaint is filed by male friend, girlfriend refuses to give a statement, male friend makes girlfriend promise to keep her door locked and not go to boyfriend's that night. Male friend and I leave. I go home, I've had enough adventure for one night.

Now I've dated some real winners before and I've gotten in very intense fights before but I have never had a guy so much as raise a finger to me. Probably because they have all realized I would cut off their balls, shove them down their throats and let them suffocate. But that's just me.

This guy really should be an ex. Girlfriend needs to cut her losses (although how much has she lost?) and run like hell. The sad thing is, she won't. I'm sure she went to his apartment today and they're going to "work it out". And next year or next month or maybe next week, he'll get too drunk again and she'll piss him off somehow and the cycle will start all over again.

I hope next time the lesbians kick his ass.

What a fool believes...

So, a couple of entries ago, CCG commented on one of her ex's showing his lame-ness via an away message. I've got that beat!

From the away message of Shrek (and please note, this has been up for an entire week now):

So I have a new job...I am a merchandiser for one of the top beer distributing companies in the country. And what does a merchandiser do? I have signs, and shoot a LOT of shit with people. Great huh?

At first, I thought "Well, good for him, finally getting a real job!" Then, I thought about it...he..."has signs"? What the hell does that mean? Then, it occurred to me (after much consulting with CCG) that this must mean he is in charge of bringing the promotional (think holiday/seasonal banners for beer companies) signs at bars and liquor stores. Either that, or he is...drumroll, please...the beer truck driver, WOOT! Or something equally as prestigious. And to think, if I hadn't made him fail out of college, he never would have gotten such an amazing job!

Some Thoughts on the Site

In communist China, in the years after Mao's revolution, an important part of building a new culture was allowing people to complain about their past. At first, the more they complained, the worse the past would seem. But by venting, people could start to resolve the past. By bitching and bitching and bitching, they could exhaust the drama of their own horror stories. Grow bored. Only then could they accept a new story for their lives. Move forward.
-- Chuck Palahniuk

I started this page right after my relationship with Shrek ended. At the time I was bitter, and needed to get some things out. This site was the best way for me to go about doing that. I added complaints about the two other people I've dated, and invited friends to complain about their exes in a (half-assed) attempted to universalize my experience. If you've been reading along, you'll notice my entries have become less spiteful and less frequent as my resentment towards the situation has faded. Through all of this, I have been able to get past what I've been through. Now I can accept a new story for my life. But, I'll still try to think of something to write about the exes on here, just to keep everyone entertained.

Grow up already!

So I was reading away messages last night and I came across ABs. Quick refresher: AB is the sketchy guy who I dumped because he wore nasty boxers and google-searched me and I thought that was sketchy.
His away message was: "In line at [local bookstore] to get my copy of Harry Potter at midnight. I need a girlfriend."
Um, how should I break this gently? Any guy who spends Friday night in line at a bookstore for a CHILDREN'S BOOK is not capable of maintaining a decent relationship.
AB probably picked up his book at midnight, went home and stayed up for four more hours to read it, then looked at some kiddie porn and jerked off and fell asleep in his ratty-ass boxers. What girl thinks that sounds like her dream man?
I don't care what anyone says, Harry Potter books are for children (okay, maybe "tweens"). They are not for adults, unless said adult is a child-molester.

He's a Little Strange, But I'll Keep Him

My current boyfriend has rather strange ideas about clothing and general appearances. I'll document a few of them quickly.

His Own Appearance:

I don't think this boy owns anything that didn't come from the thrift store. While he has made some pretty good finds there, most of it consists of t-shirts that were probably free in the first place. So basically, he's paying for a shirt that the original owner got for free, which I think negates the utility of the thrift store.

He also does not own a single pair of jeans. He wears only khakis. This alone would not bother me (hey, I like khakis), but he only has 3 pairs of them and all have holes and grass stains all over them. Whenever he goes out and wants to look nice, he wears the least holey pair of khakis and the same pink striped button-down shirt. The shirt itself isn't bad, but it is really thin and he never wears an undershirt with it. So, in certain lights, you can see through it.

My Appearance:

My current hates it when I straighten my hair. He says that it looks so much better when it is wavy. Now, I'm the type of girl who straightens her hair everyday, so at first I refused to stop. I mean, I like my hair better straight--my natural hair texture is that strange mixture of straight and wavy that just looks unkempt. But after months of hearing him complain about it, I finally relented and retired my hair straightener.

Recently, he saw me wearing my glasses, because my contacts were bothering me. So now he's decided that my glasses are the cutest thing ever and that I should start wearing them all the time. This is one thing that will never happen. I hate my glasses. Hand to God, I look like Mary from Its a Wonderful Life if she had never met George Bailey.

Look Ma! No hands!

My high school boyfriend was, among other things, a neurotic--to the point that he reminded me of my grandmother, who up until that point I thought was the most neurotic, anal person on the planet.

The ex had this bizarre quark: he refused to touch food with his hands. This includes fast food, french fries and other normal finger foods. I distinctly remember that during long road trips I would have to feed him his McDonald's french fries. It wasn't that he was afraid of germs or anything like that. He was just terrified of having grease or food residue on his fingers.

Weird, no?

Seems I've Made the Right Decision

My last post inspired me to make a "Where are they now?" entry to tell all my good post-break-up stories.

Boris- Since we broke up, he went to college, graduated with a degree in mathematics and computer science, and is currently looking for a job. During his time in college, he was a very active member of a medieval battle club. Their annual event was to go to a "war" which was about two weeks long, in the woods somewhere. Geeks of all ages would unite to have mock battles all day. A girl there sent him a love note, requesting he meet her somewhere, but he blew her off.

Fruit Fly- Graduated high school, went to college, got a driver's license (still no car), and became a huge pot-head. Before going to college, he was sleeping with some gimpy girl who had the clap. He has spent his time at college sleeping with everything that walks (or hobbles) and has a vagina (or anywhere else to put it- I think he may have started going for men). He still has a million pictures he painted of me in his apartment, which made his most recent girlfriend jealous. She was also mad that he was still madly in love with another ex (not me) who lives a few states away. I want to meet the girl he is madly in love with, but she hates me, because my loserex called her my name in bed. Oops. Eric says she is beyond ugly. I can't say one way or the other though, since I have never seen a picture. I still find it hard to believe that he really loves this girl like he says he does. If he really did, he wouldn't be sleeping around with everyone else in the world.

Shrek- I think he said it better than I ever could. Check out the last entry if you don't believe me. One post break-up moment that sticks out for me is the online conversation we had about 6 weeks after the break-up. I guess when he found out I was dating someone else, he realized I had no intention of coming back to him. So, he sent me a bunch of IM's inquiring as to whether or not I had (or rather, accusing me of having) cheated on him with the guy I am currently dating. The conversation went something like this:

Fatass: Were you f*cking your neighbor before or after we broke up?
Me: Neither, thank you. I started dating my neighbor after we broke up, and my personal life no longer concerns you.
Fatass: I don't care who you're with, but it is my business whether or not I need to get tested for an STD.
Me: You know I never cheated on you, don't even try to pull that card. You're just being bitter.
Fatass: I heard you're talking shit about me.
Me: What did you hear?
Fatass: that you said I'm an asshole
Me: Well, you are.

It went on like that for a few minutes, then ended with him asking when he should bring some of my stuff over. I told him that I would send some people to pick it up from his dorm, since there was no way I was letting that ogre anywhere near my room.

Since this conversation, he went on to fail out of school, which was somehow my fault (awesome, I never knew I had so much power). If you want to know what happened to him after that, just read his livejournal, as it is just too ridiculous for me to even begin to explain.

See guys, I'm the best you'll ever have, and your pitiful lives will go to hell without me.

Hey RGB-

What ever happened to the guy who blamed you for flunking out of college? Just curious.

I hate it when people don't know when to leave.

I love having people over for dinner (I hate cooking for just one person) and I enjoy good conversation BUT I have things to do. Things like my laundry. Things that I really don't want or need Mr. Daisy's supervision to do.

And it's not just tonight. It's every time he comes over. It's really obnoxious.

(But come to think of it, it was really obnoxious when we were dating too.)

You don't care if it's wrong or if it is right

I think I'm just going to make it MB month.

I think I've said this before, but when MB and I were dating I was really really sick with RA. For those of you who aren't familiar with the symptoms of this disease, you can look it up on WebMD. Basically imagine the worst case scenario and that's where I was (and this time I am honestly not exaggerating).

When I was first diagnosed I could hide the pain. I didn't limp and as long as I didn't sit in the same position for too long I was okay. But of course things got much worse before they got better (and they did get better--if I didn't tell people they wouldn't know today).

The worse things got, the more self-conscious I became. I knew people on campus were talking about me and why a former dancer now stiffly limped around the quad. My hands swelled up and began to disfigure. I couldn't walk in high heels anymore. I lost a lot of weight (actually, that wasn't so bad) but I also lost all muscle tone (that was bad).

I didn't feel pretty or attractive at all.

To make matters worse, I became completely uninterested in sexual activity. Frankly, it hurt too much to fool around.

To his credit, MB was really good about most of it. He didn't press things too much and he understood why I clutched his hand in a really weird way when we went out. I'll never complain about how he dealt with the RA.

Until the night he decided he needed some action and went to the strip club.

There are few things in this world to which I am unequivocally morally opposed. Selling sex is one of them. Call me a prude or whatever, but I think prostitution or any of its derivatives is absolutely repugnant. I can stomach most "sexual eccentricities" (I don't engage in them but when I think about others doing so it does not make me physically ill). I have no tolerance for a woman (or a man for that matter) selling her body. And I have no tolerance for men (or women) who are willing to pay for the experience.

(Can you tell I took Sex Ethics for my religion Senior Sem?)

But putting that aside, if you know your girlfriend is stricken with a chronic deforming disease and you've talked about how unattractive she feels do you really think the best thing to do is go to the strip club with the guys?

It accomplishes nothing (other than destroying the trust that should be present in an intimate relationship). It's not like the strippers will finish you off so you have to do it on your own time which men do anyways. The only difference is you are now thinking about some other woman's ass in your face.

To say I was hurt would be an understatement. MB could have backhanded me and it would have stung less. Of course in the end it bit him in the ass because it only made me even more sexually reclusive than I already was. I didn't want him to even look at me because I was afraid he was comparing me to the lithe, able-bodied women at the strip club.

We broke up a few weeks later because I could not trust him anymore. Maybe that was irrational of me, but when it comes down to it, if he did something that bothered me that much the relationship was not meant to be.

Resolutions you should have made.

Sorry for the lapse in posting, the holiday hustle-and-bustle has gotten to the contributors of LoserEx. We will return in the New Year with more bitching and moaning, but until then, here is a joint post of resolutions you should have made all those years ago. Who knows, maybe if you had made them then, we would have been kissing you tomorrow night (but this is highly unlikely).

1. Learn to drive. This applies to a couple of people. Actually, it should be a broader category of attain necessary accoutrements for driving (ie, a driver's license, insurance and a car).
2. Wipe your ass thoroughly after taking a crap. I shouldn't even have to say this one.
3. Learn to speak, read and write English. All of live here, most of you were actually born here. Become familiar with our native tongue.
4. Stop stealing silverware, etc from restaurants. It only drives up prices that our current boyfriends have to pay to take us out. Don't make them look cheap.
5. This is sort of a long the same lines but stop stealing scrubs from the damn emergency room. Ever wonder why there's a so-called healthcare crisis?
6. Stop trying to stick your tongue in every crevice of our bodies. Your tongue up my nose is not incredibly erotic. There's a good reason why I don't date my dog. (This also goes for putting our jewelry in your mouth. If you want to make sure my pearls are real, throw down your plastic for a new string.)
7. Learn to dress yourself. See previous post for a list of unacceptable items. Print it out and take it to the mall with you when you go spend those giftcards you got from Aunt Beverly.
8. Come up with a date that's classier than drinking gin and Sprite through a turkey baster. It's like giving my mouth an illegal abortion and it is not my right to kill my mouth babies.
9. Stop getting so drunk that you wake up to your dad hosing you down in a field when you're covered in chicken and have had your pubes shaved off. But if you think this is going to happen, please don't call us at 4AM to tell us how you got to your current state. We really don't care.
10. Finally learn that when we offer to pay we're not actually offering to pay. This is your cue to throw down your plastic.
11. Lose your religion. Especially if it is borderline cult-like.
12. There will be at least four (but hopefully more) gift-giving occasions this year: our birthday, our anniversary, Valentine's Day and Christmas (these are not in sequential order). Do not give us a crappy gift. When in doubt, the following is acceptable: expensive gourmet chocolates, expensive white gold jewelry, expensive perfume that is not endorsed by a pop tart, an expensive dog with a smushy face and an expensive vacation to someplace exotic. Notice that the words "Bargain", "Gift Card", "Homemade Art" and "Fredericks of Hollywood" do not appear in this list. That's not because we forgot them.
13. Acquire good taste in music. None of you are black, please set your programmed radio stations accordingly. If the song has to be drastically edited for the radio station, it is probably not good music so stop tuning to the station where every other lyric is bleeped out.
14. Get a job and move out of your parents' basement. At 26, this is just pitiful. If you can't support yourself with your current gig, maybe it's time to try a new career. Afterall, you did graduate from "John" Hopkins.
15. Don't call me skanky, fat, dumb, prudish, stuck-up, arrogant, heartless, selfish, difficult, etc. Especially not when you're blowing my cell phone up with drunk text messages at 3AM on a Tuesday. Who does that?
16. Don't google me. That's so sketchy.
17. Stop lying about the other women you're sleeping with, your brain cancer diagnosis, the size of your package, your age, your job, your whereabouts, your personal hygiene habits (look, I shouldn't even have to ask if you brushed your teeth, but I can sure as hell tell if you're lying to me), your plans for the future (including moving my shit to my apartment), or really anything else. Just don't lie. We will find out and when we do we will not be happy.
18. Don't call my dog ugly or misbehaved (don't say it about my sister either).
19. Make your room me-friendly. Take down the 500 paintings of me you created after we broke up, take down the posters of the Playboy Bunnies, get some furniture so I don't have to sit on the damn floor when I come over, quit turning the air conditioner on in February so that I get THOs when I come over, clean your bathroom and kitchen (this is big), stock your pantry with stuff other than beef jerky, doritos and beer, throw away petrified left-overs and buy at least one DVD that does not star Jackie Chan, Angelina Jolie, Jenna Jameson, Sylvester Stallone, Jet Li, or The Governator. As much as we love Ah-nold, his movies leave much to be desired.
20. Don't blame me for your sub-par grades.
21. Try to avoid being thrown in the looney bin this year. Avoid prison too.

We'd love to say we'd rather be kissing you tomorrow night, but well, we wouldn't want to lie to you. We'd honestly rather spend tomorrow playing leapfrog with unicorns. But hey, given a little effort you are all capable of becoming mediocre dates for fat 30-somethings. Aim high, boys.

Happy New Year from us here at LoserEx!!

The hardest part of breaking-up is getting back your stuff.

Ok, here are some new ones.

Boris- Used to get really pissed off when my best friend and I played the Penis Game (which is that game people play when they're 14 which consists of taking turns yelling the word "penis" progressively louder). One time, he yelled at us, and told us that it was obnoxious. So I apologized for my rude behavior. Then, I told him that we would play a less-offensive game called "The Scrotum Game," which he agreed to let us play. Needless to say, this was the same game with a different word. I don't know how anyone could have not caught onto this. I guess the game grew on him, because a few days later, he wanted to play it. It ended when he rolled down his car window at a red light, looked at the woman in the car next to us, and yelled the worst possible word to yell at her. She followed us for twenty minutes. I was shocked that the cops never came after us that day. Dumbass, the penis game is one thing, but sexual harassment is another.

Fruit Fly- Here is the very first conversation we ever had. Really, I had just met him 30 seconds prior to this discussion.

Him- Ok, so I have this problem, and I need some advice on it.

Me- Um...

Him- Ok, so I got really drunk last weekend, and passed out, and when I woke up, I was naked and all of my pubes were shaven off. Now, they're starting to grow back, and they're little red, ictchy bumps. It really itches, I don't know what to do about it. Do you know what I should do?

Me- Um....exfoliate?

Him- Ex-fo-li-huh?

The rest of the conversation was me explaning what exfoliating is. Hey buddy, teling people about whats going-on down there is not a good way to meet women.

Shrek- I really hate this guy. I don't know If I've made that clear in past entries, so I want to say it now. I have nothing against the other guys, other than they were lousy boyfriends. But, I really hate this one. He is the only person I have ever dated whom I do not wish to ever talk to again. Boris and Fruit Fly are nice guys, and I still talk to both regularly. Shrek is the only person I have dated that I would consider a mistake. With that being said, here is my complaint for him today:
So, I was moving to my apartment, and I had asked Shrek a few weeks in advance if he could help move my stuff once I boxed it. I asked, because I told him I would just have my mom and step dad come down to help me move if that was a hassle. He said it was no problem, and we even scheduled two days to move my stuff. Well, a few weeks later, day one rolled around, and he told me he was going to help his D&D (yeah, I know) buddies move their stuff instead. They had asked him 5 minutes prior. Also, they are big guys, and there are two of them, there is no reason why they could not move their own belongings. But, being the way-too-much-of-a-pushover that I am, I allowed this. Day two, he told me that he was tired, and he wasn't going to move my stuff. Now, I was left with a few hours to move before I was fined. I called a sister, and she helped me. The only things left were my TV, computer, and fridge, which Shrek had moved into his room. He refused to take these to my apartment for weeks, even after we had broken up. To this day, he still has my microwave. I'm not sure if I am going to try to get it back. It was only $30, and that almost makes it seem a reasonable price to never have to deal with him again. He likes to hold on to my stff, because he thinks it will bring me back to get it. I don't want to play this game. I am done with him, there is (almost) nothing he could have of mine that has enough value that would make me come back to get it. $30 seems to be a fair price to be able to move on with my life.

God help me.

My first boyfriend was a Mormon.

God, where should I even begin with this one? I should have ran away when I first met him, but unfortunately I stuck around for two years and I'm sure if I were to show up at Nottie's or someplace tonight I would be asked "Are you still dating the Mormon?"

Umm, no. We broke up seven years ago, but that's what happens when you date someone for so long in high school.

He's married now (no big surprise there), so I can talk about him now because it's not like his (mormon) wife is going to divorce him or anything.

For religious reasons I could not see or talk to him on Sundays. Keeping the sabbath holy or something. I also could not see him on holidays, including Christmas, Easter, New Year's Eve, New Year's Day, Independence Day, Bastille Day, Boxing Day...pretty much if the banks were closed I couldn't see him. He would go to church all day on these days, or at least that's what he told me.

For a while there was also a rule that for every date we went on, he had to take a Mormon girl on a date. I guess so that he could find a wife before he graduated from high school.

(This shit would not stand now, but I was naive.)

We couldn't watch R-rated movies. He was over at my house one time and my parents were watching Dracula (the Bram Stoker version) and he asked me to ask my parents to turn it off because he couldn't watch it.

He was also cheap as hell. I think we went out maybe like four times in the two years that we dated. The rest of the time we'd watch movies at my house. Then we would make out. Then he would tell me I was going to hell because God didn't want him making out with non-mormon heathens. In fact, I was really the devil because I was trying to make him "unpure" so that he couldn't enter the temple.

In April of his senior year I found out he still hadn't applied to any colleges. I filled out the damn HCC application for him and mailed it in. I guess he spent too much time praying to actually apply to college.

He had this t-shirt from the Physics Olympics that he wore like everyday. With a flannel shirt, five years after the grunge look was in style. When I first met him he didn't bathe on a regular basis. He actually wrote in my yearbook "You have taught me the importance of hygiene when no one else could." Nice. Isn't cleanliness next to godliness?

He wrote (and sometimes spoke) in his rendition of old english. There was a lot of "ye" and "doth" in his vernacular. Yeah, that was a good time. (That thing in the yearbook probably actually says "Ye hath taught me...")

He wouldn't cuss. At first this was funny, but after awhile "Gosh darn it!" got pretty damn annoying.

He wouldn't drink caffeine and he told me my little sister needed to go into drug treatment because of her caffeine addiction (because she would drink ONE CAN of Dr. Pepper after school everyday).

The gas gauge in his car was broken. Instead of having it fixed (or at least watching the trip odometer), he would just drive his car until it ran out of gas and then have me call my mother to come pick us up.

Once, he promised to take me to the circus but then his family came into town and they were going to go to the beach instead. Rather than calling me and explaining and dealing with a little bit of whining from me, he had his mother call and tell me that until we were married, his family came first.

Junior year, he got "called" on his mission. He would be gone for two years and we wouldn't be allowed to talk to each other. He chose to break this news to me at halftime during a Friday-night basketball game. I was a cheerleader. It was one of the few times he actually game to one of my games. I think I ran out of the gym crying. It was real fun trying to be peppy after that. And then his cheap ass didn't even take me to dinner after the game.

He left on his mission the day before we left for Disney World for Nationals. Needless to say, I didn't have a good time in Florida that year.

A few weeks later he went apeshit and got kicked off his mission. He came back to Slumbia but didn't bother telling me. I guess he thought he could keep it a secret. One of the girls who danced with me went to his church. She was the one who told me he was back. I started hyperventilating in the middle of the dance studio. I got to go home early. You can guess where I stopped on my way home. That's when I broke it off for good, two years too late.

Driving Mr. Daisy

Okay, in RGB's first post, she complained about an 18-year old who didn't have his driver's license. I dated a 24-year old who had his license, made more money than I do, paid less in expenses than I do and still was too cheap to buy a car. So we took my car everywhere.
He was also too spastic to learn how to drive stick shift (real men drive stick) so I also had to drive us everywhere.
He had no problem, however, choosing destinations on the other side of the friggin' state. I mean, Valentine's Day in Rochester is nice, but why the hell do I have to drive?
You know how much it sucks to be the sober cab? Imagine doing that for an entire year. And then never question my lack of a tolerance to alcohol again.

'Tis the season

Since it's the last weekend before Christmas and I know the mall will be jam-packed with men who forgot that this holiday occurs on the same day every year and are trying to find what the salesguy at Zales deems the perfect gift, I figured I'd offer my stories of the worst gifts ever. Consider it "what not to buy":

• A teddy bear that you bought in August and slept with every night so now it smells like your funk
• A popsicle-maker--the plastic kind you pour juice in and stick in the freezer for a few hours
• A musical Mickey Mouse toothbrush
• a poem that you wrote, especially if you don't have a basic grasp of the English language
• The Book of Mormon, with your favorite passages marked
• A DVD that you really want
• A video you already own
• Anything stolen from the local emergency room
• Anything from Fredericks of Hollywood. Especially if it resembles something Mrs. Claus would wear in a porno.
• The necklace she asked for at her birthday six months ago that you neglected to buy.
• A gift certificate to Outback Steak House (I haven't received this one yet, but the current boyfriend has threatened me with it)
• An ugly "Y" necklace--ten years after "Y" necklaces ceased to be in style
• An "open-heart" necklace--especially if you bought her an "open-heart" necklace last year
• A Hillary Duff calendar

The sad thing is I've actually received every single one of these gifts and I've actually been forced to act surprised and delighted at each and every one. Yet every year, I agonize over what to get my boyfriend. This year I took the why-bother route. I got him a present, but it took me about five minutes to figure out what to get him. He'll like it because there will be hell to pay if he doesn't.

Plus the only thing he really wants for Christmas is to get in my pants so if I lead him on for awhile, he'll be the happiest man in the world.

Your best friend won't tell you what not to wear, but I am not your best friend.

Let's face it: men have very little sense of style. While I can accept that men won't iron their clothes, or may wear t-shirts in the middle of winter, I cannot accept the fashion crimes of my exes.

Boris- I could go on forever about this one, so I am just going to list a few of the worst things which he wore:

• black jeans -about 10 years after they ceased to be in style
  
• white jeans -often with a white t-shirt
• jeans in any other obnoxious color you can think of- including, but not limited to: red, green, and funny blue
• sweat pants -the kind from k-mart with the elastic in the ankles (and in assorted colors)...and I mean he wore these out of the house, like to school or out to eat.
• a variety of shirts from k-mart -which, in his defense were plain, and therefore not too bad
• brown shoes with black slacks- there's really nothing to be said here.
• those stupid shirts boys wore in 1st grade with animals on them, and some sort of nature scene -the worst of which being this green one which had a huge eagle on it, and some trees in the background, then at the bottom in HUGE letters, said "Field Master" and he wore it with olive-colored jeans. I still cringe when I think about this one.

Fruit Fly- Was prissy about what he would wear. He wanted to maintain his gay-punk-does-this-color-look-good-on-me style. Oddly enough however, he dressed like a tool. Key pieces of his wardrobe are as follows:

• Those hanes white undershirts worn as outer shirts- he wore this almost every day.
• Those hanes white tank tops worn as outer shirts- this was so gross. It showed a lot of chest hair, and looked...well, skanky. Mellie called him "nudie boy" after he wore this to school once.
• a pair of baggy punk-esque khakis with holes covered in duct tape- he never wore shorts. For awhile, he only had one pair of these pants. This was not because his family was poor or anything, it was because he was too prissy about his pants to find another pair he liked. The finally pissed me off so much, I bought him a pair of $11 pants at old navy and told him to please discard the duct-taped pants.
• a pair of flip-flops held together by duct tape- he would never wear sneakers because, he didn't like the way they made his feet look. He eventually realized that he needed some closed-toe shoes for the winter, and spent all winter making me take him to various shoe stores, where no shoe was what he wanted. In the spring, he finally settled on a pair of slip-on brown leather shoes with sneaker-like rubber soles which look much like what one's grandfather would wear. When he showed me these, I didn't know what to say, until he wore them with black leather accesories, then I knew exactly what to say: "The fashion police are going to get you if you do not change something here." Seriously, these shoes were soooo ugly. I can't believe someone so prissy about shoes could ever find these to be the right shoes. I can't imagine anyone wanteing to wear these, unless they are really old and no longer have th motor skills needed to tie their own shoes.
• assorted bracelets and necklaces- most of which were either hemp, or those little metal ball necklaces which no punk can be without. He also had a this black, shiney vinyl wrist cuff that he wore...but he lost it one day.
• a buttload of hair products- including, but not limited to a collection of gels, sprays and pomades. He would never want to leave the house without having his hair done. Or without plucking his eyebrows. He plucked more than I do.
• a leather coat that felt like plastic and had a funny shape to it- it was, um, interesting. Once again, this was the only coat which he would wear, because he didn't like the way coats looked on him.
• my purse- I'd often ask him to hold my purse for a second, and he would not just hold it, but put it on his shoulder and strut with it.
• a few band t-shirts- although he would always swear he didn't like the band which the shirt was of...whatever.
• a navy blue hoodie- worn almost everyday. It was coming apart at the seams, and he even sang about his damn hoodie.
• Thrift store finds- including, but not limited to: a CCCP t-shirt, a pair of Burgundy corduroys (which "made him strut"), some goofy-ass hats, and a shirt that looked like clown vomit.

Shrek- was just so dirty. His clothing wouldn't have been too bad, had he just washed it once in awhile. When I sent some people over to get my stuff from his room a few months ago, they were so grossed out by how he was wearing dirty clothes, and obviously did not practice the most rigorous of hygiene- routines. Aside from everything being dirty, here are some of the bad things Shrek wore:

• Free shirts- which would not have been so bad, but this was all he wore. He only had like 3 shirts which were not free, and I did not buy him. He wore this one I got at CR which was really ugy. It had a herd of angry elephants at said "Stampede to Victory: Bush/Cheney 2004." Oddly enough, he is pretty apathetic towards politics, and would only pretend to be a strong supporter of the Republican party because, he wanted to dupe me into thinking we had similar values. What a tool. Look, I really don't care if people have beliefs different from my own, but at least have the balls to say what they are, and have a damn good reason behind them.
• Big Dog shirts- remember those? I bet you do. Know anyone who still wears them? I bet you don't. He told me that he wore them because they were meant to fit people who were big (he was really tall, and broad...ok, fat). To this day, I do not know if that is true or not. All I know is that they made him look like a Big Dumbass.
  
• skid-marked underwear- sorry I brought that up again. ew.
• shorts- and almost never pants. Even in the dead of winter, he would wear shorts and a t-shirt.
• sneakers- boy did not ever wear a pair of nice shoes, even when we went out to dinner with my parents on New Years, he wore black slacks with ugly-ass white sneakers. And his feet were size 16, so those damn sneakers were HUGE and always stood-out. I hated this. Well, I mean, it's ok to wear sneakers with jeans and stuff, but when we go out, and you wear slacks, wear some nice shoes too, dipsh*t.

This was all he ever wore. Ever. And remember, it was almost always dirty. He smelled really really bad. My friends told me his room was covered with half-eaten food which was decaying, and piles of clothes which are obviously dirty when I sent them to retrieve my belongings he had held captive. Charming.

Look, I don't want a guy who dresses better than me. I just want a guy who wears clothes which are clean, and not stupid. I am ok with guys who like to dress casually. A t-shirt (which was not a freebie), or a polo shirt with jeans is totally acceptable. Also, wear a sweater in the winter, or at least a long sleeve shirt with some pants. And when we go out, PLEASE wear some shoes which are not sneakers or flip-flops held together by duct tape. All I am saying is I put effort into the way I look, I just want you to do the same.

So much for my happy ending.

Well, since I missed a day (almost two), that means, I get to share especially vicious complaints today. Here it comes:

Boris- Lacked phone etiquette. Really. Ok, first of all, he had this job over the summer at his father's place of work. He got a short lunch break, and for some reason felt he must call me everyday during it. Of course, whie he did this, he usually, no, ALWAYS was eating. Let me just say, that eating on the phone is gross. I do not want to hear chewing noises amplified into my ear, thank you. It didn't stop there though. He called way too often. If I didn't for whatever reason, answer my phone, he would call my best friend's phone. If she didn't answer, he would call her mother, and ask where we were. Ok, I don't know what you do in Romania, but in the US, we leave voicemails. Then, he went out of the country for two and a half months. During this time, I heard fromhim for a grand total of 5 minutes, spread over two phone calls...um...what happened to the calling, buddy? Find something easier over seas? If I had been the person then that I am now, I would have taken a side order during this time, but I was way too loyal to do anything like that then. Needless to say, the relationship died fast after his two and a half month disappearance.

Fruit Fly- Is completely self-unaware ( I think I made that term up). What I mean is this: most of us have a good sense of who we are. We know what our strengths are, and we know what our weaknesses are. This guy had no ricking clue. First of all, he thought he was straight, when he was clearly not. This didn't bother me though, I mean, a gay boyfriend is fun to shop with. What did was the fact that he thought he was the world's greatest musician, destined for rock-star status. The truth of the matter was: he played a few cords on his bass guitar. He couldn't sing for crap, but he thought he could. He didn't really know how to play a single instrument, and he knew nothing about music, other than the bad punk he illegally downloaded off the internet. He often got on these kicks about how I don't understand him, because I am not a musicain. Once, this finally got to me, and I asked him if he could read music, and suggested giving him a sight-reading test to find out. He declined this offer, and admitted that he cannot read music. Then, I asked him if he played anything other than a few cords on the bass. His answer: no. So, I told him to get off his damn "I'm a musicain" kick, because I am not buying it, and I am sick of hearing it. Then, there was the whole art thing. Look, the guy took photos, warped them on paintshop, then traced them on a canvas. This is such crap. I cannot accept this as artistic talent. Sorry.

Shrek- I used to do this guy's laundry. The first time I ever did, I was horrified when I saw his boxers. They had skid marks. I tried not to let it get to me, but it did. This is so gross. I knew then, that I could never marry this guy. I mean, imagine the honeymoon. What if his butt leaked all over the white sheets of the resort which we were at. Not only could I not have sex with this guy because a) he is nasty and b) the sheets would be icky, but I would also be mortified when housekeeping came to change the sheets. Surely they'd be thinking that he was putting it somewhere that I would never let anyone put it.

Well, those are the worst stories I will publish for awhile. I feel bad having said all this mean stuff. Well, not bad enough to push the "Publish Post" button...hehehehehhehehee...SCREW YOU, EXES!

Throwing down the plastic

Hmmm...more on MB

He really really liked these two singers. I really like these two singers too so when I heard they were playing in Columbus, I got tickets (at $150 a pop). MB assumed that since the concert was a few weeks after his birthday, the tickets were my birthday present to him and made plans to come to Columbus to see this show. The thing is, we weren't dating when I bought the tickets and we sure as hell weren't dating when the concert rolled around. In fact, I was dating another guy and was blissfully happy with him.
But on the day of the concert, MB showed up in Columbus (he drove seven hours to get there). Feeling really bad that I didn't make it incredibly clear to him that he wasn't invited (I thought the fact I was dating another guy was was a sure sign), I cancelled on the girlfriend I was going to go with (the current boyfriend wasn't too keen into these performers and he had some stuff to do anyways) and told MB I would pick him up at five. That was my first mistake, I really should have held my ground.
We're sitting in the concert venue and I'm a little pissed about the whole situation but I'm trying to make the best of it so I ask what's new in his life.
"Well, I don't know how to say this but I'm dating someone."
"Really? How long has this been?"
"Since Mardi Gras. " (Note: Easter had been early this year so Mardi Gras had fallen at the beginning of February. According to MB, I "ripped his heart out" in late January. How bad could it possibly have been if he was DATING EXCLUSIVELY again at the beginning of February?!?!)
"Okay. What's her name? What's she like?"
"Her name is Jan, she's 30 and has about 15 pounds on you."
Niiiice (I am a firm believer that it is downright insulting to date someone uglier/fatter/not as gainfully employed as your ex. I realize this makes life difficult for my exes, but they should consider it a small price to pay to date such greatness).
Needless to say, I was pissed that he made me waste my concert-going experience (not to mention the price I paid for the tickets) so that he didn't have to tell me over the phone that he had a new girlfriend. Furthermore, what the hell was his girlfriend doing, letting him drive seven hours to essentially go on a date with his exgirlfriend? If my boyfriend tried to pull this one over on me I would nail his testicles to the wall. Literally.
So we get through the concert and I'm expecting him to at least buy me dinner. I subtly hint at this in the usual form ("Are you hungry?") and he ignores it. Right before I'm about to drop him off, he's like "can we go through the Wendy's drive-through?" and I'm like sure, thinking french fries sound incredible at this point (with a side of chocolate ice cream and maybe a bottle of beaujolais). Since I'm driving, I get to talk into the little box so I relay his order and then order my french fries. I pull through to the first window, expecting him to hand me money and he gives me exact change for his purchase.
So the bastard ruined the most spectacular concert of my life at my expense and then wouldn't buy my damn dollar-menu french fries. And since he was already my ex, I had no way to recoup my losses.
Cheap asshole.