Well friends, we are up to the grand finale of my song, the last verse wherein lies many a tale of many a man who, like the proverbial black cat, has crossed my dating path. I'm pretty sure there was a ladder or two involved somewhere. Here is the first fella we'll take a gander at:
"But there's more... a cross-dresser from Chicago..."
Now of course I didn't go into this whole thing knowing he was a cross-dresser. That would be insane! No, he cleverly left that out of his profile description. He was a nice, attractive, intelligent seeming guy who appeared to be looking for many of the same things I was, including a relationship with that someone special (my words, not his). How could I go wrong, right?
Wrong.
See this is the thing. I suck at reading signs. Not like street signs and whatnot. Just the big, blaring neon signs that blink over people's heads when you're out on a date with them and things are very clearly circling the drain. Or when they bust out a pocket size Aqua Net and a lighter. Signs like "RUN!" or "U TURN" or "WTFH?!?" You know, those kinda signs. I mean, I can read them (and see them, as I just described them as neon) I just refuse to heed them. I politely brush them away and pretend they were never there. It's because of this that Taco Time was born, so I won't talk too awful about this issue of mine. But I digress...
He was from California, had lived out in L.A. Hell, he was even married to Rosanne Barr's daughter! Saw the pic of him and Roseanne at his wedding reception! (and for the record, I also googled him and found it was indeed true.) I met up with this guy for Kombucha at a health food shop in town. He was kind of a crunchy, seaweed eating health food almost vegan sort (that should have been a sign right there) and it was his pick, which was fine. I'm down for new things. Then he started talking. He had this almost constantly condescending way of talking, which was a bit tricky to play comfortable around. I could have been as condescending right along with him, but I choose not to. I played it cool and then our lunch date finished with an open ended "Well, that was fun, maybe I'll see you again sometime." I didn't honestly see how our outing equated to anything he wanted to repeat. Me? Queen of "EveryGuyDeservesAChanceLand"? I was up for another round. Besides, maybe he was just nervous.
Or apparently his frilly thong was riding too high up his crack, moose-knuckling his junk and whatnot. Who knows. What? Who? Just keep reading.
So we did go out for another round or two, usually at the health food shop (it was near where he was staying). Sometimes I even picked him up from the plasma donation place. Yes, he donated plasma. Lots of people do. Yes, he had no car. Lots of people...don't...at some point in their lives. Most of the time when I am dating them. Ugh... Things were still hard to decipher. There were times when I could tell (or thought I could tell) that he liked me. Other times I was sure that he was disgusted with my very existence and had no idea why he was bothering to hang out with me.
Then he went "home" (he said it always felt like home) to Chicago for a few days. We were texting while he was up there, and he asked if I wanted to pick him up from the bus station when he got back. Sure, why not? Super nice person over here. Some have even gone so far as to call me awesome. Just sayin'. Anyway, so when I picked him up I got a hug and we went over to Front Street Brewery (a local pub, for you out of towners) for a few drinks.
He seemed like a totally different person. Way more relaxed, more smiley, more affectionate. His friends and some family live in Chicago, so he was thrilled to be back in his element. And apparently ready to show me just how much he liked me. He sat with his arm around me, sat close to me, and even went so far as to kiss me. Even said that he had wanted to do that for awhile but was scared. Or something. I don't really remember anymore. And then there was the big reveal...
A few weeks earlier he sent me a picture of him at halloween when his friends dared him to dress up like a woman. He didn't make a half-bad woman. Well, turns out he didn't think so, either. Because he used to do it on the regular. Christina was the name of his alter-ego. And he proceeded to show me more pictures of "her". And while he assured me she was no longer a part of his life, he did admit to holding onto a pair of skinny jeans and thigh-high stiletto boots that he, on occasion, liked to prance around the house in. Okay, so he didn't say prance, but come on, what else is a 6 foot tall Mexican going to be doing in skinny jeans and stilettos? Playing Risk?
Wow. So, yeah. I wish I could say that it ended there. It didn't. But come on. He didn't dress up anymore. I wouldn't have to date him and Christina. And who cares if when he kissed me it felt like his overly moist lips were going to both drench and suffocate me while slurping the lips clean off my face. We could work on that whole not-kissing-like-a-plecostomus thing later.
Yes, friends. I proceeded to continue to see this guy. God only knows why. No, seriously, I'm pretty sure He's the only one who does. I can no longer recall what flights of insanity led me to continue on with this man. There were a few nights of drunken hanging out - I equate his drunkenness to that of a high Cheech - full of sloppy kisses and regret. And then one day things just... ended.
Again, I'm sure he flipped some crazy switch - or wig, if Christina had her way - and freaked out at the possibility of some kind of adult, functioning relationship. Haha! I can't even get the sentence out without laughing. That was never going to happen. But yeah, for some reason or another he stopped messaging or calling or texting and I left it at that.
I seriously have got to stop chasing the crazies. I mean really, people. My behavior is downright commitment-worthy. But this is all part of my plan... for 2013. Stop chasing crazies.
But... they won't... stop... chasing... me!
AAAAAGGGGGHHHH! Ahem... where was I? Oh yeah...
El Fin.
Sorry it's been so long. I promise I'll try to do better. Damn this whole me having a real day job and kids and hobbies and a messy house and chores and a lazy streak the size of the equator. 2013, baby. You are my year. To... do... stuff? Yeah, stuff.
Like blog more. Scout's honor.
Love you all like a love song...
~h
(p.s. Totally laid my peepers on the aforementioned thigh-high stiletto boots. Size 10's, for the record, are freakin' ginormous.)
NEXT TACO TUESDAY: Continuing on with the final verse... oh, lord. The bobblehead collector. Aqua Teen Hunger Force anyone? (If you say yay I punch you now.)( Kidding!)( Not really.) Title?Wow, your bobblehead collection is so impressive OR "Don't bring me dow-ownnn...Brrrrrruce!"
Now of course I didn't go into this whole thing knowing he was a cross-dresser. That would be insane! No, he cleverly left that out of his profile description. He was a nice, attractive, intelligent seeming guy who appeared to be looking for many of the same things I was, including a relationship with that someone special (my words, not his). How could I go wrong, right?
Wrong.
See this is the thing. I suck at reading signs. Not like street signs and whatnot. Just the big, blaring neon signs that blink over people's heads when you're out on a date with them and things are very clearly circling the drain. Or when they bust out a pocket size Aqua Net and a lighter. Signs like "RUN!" or "U TURN" or "WTFH?!?" You know, those kinda signs. I mean, I can read them (and see them, as I just described them as neon) I just refuse to heed them. I politely brush them away and pretend they were never there. It's because of this that Taco Time was born, so I won't talk too awful about this issue of mine. But I digress...
He was from California, had lived out in L.A. Hell, he was even married to Rosanne Barr's daughter! Saw the pic of him and Roseanne at his wedding reception! (and for the record, I also googled him and found it was indeed true.) I met up with this guy for Kombucha at a health food shop in town. He was kind of a crunchy, seaweed eating health food almost vegan sort (that should have been a sign right there) and it was his pick, which was fine. I'm down for new things. Then he started talking. He had this almost constantly condescending way of talking, which was a bit tricky to play comfortable around. I could have been as condescending right along with him, but I choose not to. I played it cool and then our lunch date finished with an open ended "Well, that was fun, maybe I'll see you again sometime." I didn't honestly see how our outing equated to anything he wanted to repeat. Me? Queen of "EveryGuyDeservesAChanceLand"? I was up for another round. Besides, maybe he was just nervous.
Or apparently his frilly thong was riding too high up his crack, moose-knuckling his junk and whatnot. Who knows. What? Who? Just keep reading.
So we did go out for another round or two, usually at the health food shop (it was near where he was staying). Sometimes I even picked him up from the plasma donation place. Yes, he donated plasma. Lots of people do. Yes, he had no car. Lots of people...don't...at some point in their lives. Most of the time when I am dating them. Ugh... Things were still hard to decipher. There were times when I could tell (or thought I could tell) that he liked me. Other times I was sure that he was disgusted with my very existence and had no idea why he was bothering to hang out with me.
Then he went "home" (he said it always felt like home) to Chicago for a few days. We were texting while he was up there, and he asked if I wanted to pick him up from the bus station when he got back. Sure, why not? Super nice person over here. Some have even gone so far as to call me awesome. Just sayin'. Anyway, so when I picked him up I got a hug and we went over to Front Street Brewery (a local pub, for you out of towners) for a few drinks.
He seemed like a totally different person. Way more relaxed, more smiley, more affectionate. His friends and some family live in Chicago, so he was thrilled to be back in his element. And apparently ready to show me just how much he liked me. He sat with his arm around me, sat close to me, and even went so far as to kiss me. Even said that he had wanted to do that for awhile but was scared. Or something. I don't really remember anymore. And then there was the big reveal...
A few weeks earlier he sent me a picture of him at halloween when his friends dared him to dress up like a woman. He didn't make a half-bad woman. Well, turns out he didn't think so, either. Because he used to do it on the regular. Christina was the name of his alter-ego. And he proceeded to show me more pictures of "her". And while he assured me she was no longer a part of his life, he did admit to holding onto a pair of skinny jeans and thigh-high stiletto boots that he, on occasion, liked to prance around the house in. Okay, so he didn't say prance, but come on, what else is a 6 foot tall Mexican going to be doing in skinny jeans and stilettos? Playing Risk?
Wow. So, yeah. I wish I could say that it ended there. It didn't. But come on. He didn't dress up anymore. I wouldn't have to date him and Christina. And who cares if when he kissed me it felt like his overly moist lips were going to both drench and suffocate me while slurping the lips clean off my face. We could work on that whole not-kissing-like-a-plecostomus thing later.
Yes, friends. I proceeded to continue to see this guy. God only knows why. No, seriously, I'm pretty sure He's the only one who does. I can no longer recall what flights of insanity led me to continue on with this man. There were a few nights of drunken hanging out - I equate his drunkenness to that of a high Cheech - full of sloppy kisses and regret. And then one day things just... ended.
Again, I'm sure he flipped some crazy switch - or wig, if Christina had her way - and freaked out at the possibility of some kind of adult, functioning relationship. Haha! I can't even get the sentence out without laughing. That was never going to happen. But yeah, for some reason or another he stopped messaging or calling or texting and I left it at that.
I seriously have got to stop chasing the crazies. I mean really, people. My behavior is downright commitment-worthy. But this is all part of my plan... for 2013. Stop chasing crazies.
But... they won't... stop... chasing... me!
AAAAAGGGGGHHHH! Ahem... where was I? Oh yeah...
El Fin.
Sorry it's been so long. I promise I'll try to do better. Damn this whole me having a real day job and kids and hobbies and a messy house and chores and a lazy streak the size of the equator. 2013, baby. You are my year. To... do... stuff? Yeah, stuff.
Like blog more. Scout's honor.
Love you all like a love song...
~h
(p.s. Totally laid my peepers on the aforementioned thigh-high stiletto boots. Size 10's, for the record, are freakin' ginormous.)
NEXT TACO TUESDAY: Continuing on with the final verse... oh, lord. The bobblehead collector. Aqua Teen Hunger Force anyone? (If you say yay I punch you now.)( Kidding!)( Not really.) Title?Wow, your bobblehead collection is so impressive OR "Don't bring me dow-ownnn...Brrrrrruce!"
Love You Like A Love Song...sounds like a good song.
ReplyDeleteLove You Like A Love Song so I can not love you long!
Love you Like a love song, so I can turn you off instead of on.
Love you like a love song keeps the alimony very short and not long!
Love You like a love song then I can string someone real along.
It's endless!