Happy Hump Day my beloved followers!
I haven’t written about this particular website in a while. Because most of the men seem to be in a word problematic… It’s like all of the crazy congregates on this website. The site I speak of is the one and only Tinder.
Description of current Tinder guy, nickname is Clingy: 6 ft, slender, straggly, looks like that poor dear should eat an extra hamburger or two, preppy, divorced, one child, contractor, and makes his own beer and wine! (that was a definite plus)
This is our second date. He has asked me over to his place for dinner. A man that can cook and make booze… I’ve found the winning lotto ticket on Tinder!
He is standing outside waiting for me when I arrive. If I had dog ears and a little tail and put those on him he could have been the proverbial little puppy. Happy to see mama when she got home. Not the sort of greeting I was hoping for. He hugged me so tight my ribs hurt. Then he proceeded to kiss the top of my head. This is not a good sign, I haven’t even walked into his domicile yet.
We are inside his home, he opens up a red. I give him Bunny points for the red, just not my favorite. He got fake cheese for me and the meal he made was gluten free. I’ve gotta give him credit for that too. I watched him while he was cooking. This is when he started the barrage of questions: What are your future plans for a relationship? Do you think you are afraid of commitment due to your age? What are your thoughts on kids?
Inner Monologue Moment: Hmmm… when I see children let me first say that I do not dislike them. They’re lovely. But do I really want to deal with them currently? That answer is NO. My furry baby is the only baby I want at the moment. Maybe if I was in a committed relationship I would consider them. Hold on wait a minute, why am I contemplating his unnecessary question? Who asks these hard core questions on a second date? I mean I haven’t even finished the bad bottle of wine yet. He could at least have the decency to wait until I’m tipsy and fed.
During dinner he puts on some smooth jazz and tells me about his trip to South America. Clingy then segways to the wild night he had with the two women that he picked up recently. Not exactly conversation for someone that you’re asking questions like how about kids to. I see why he’s currently single. The ladies don’t flock toward whiplash like this.
He asked me if I liked ice cream. Umm, hello I’m female. Yes I like ice cream! Come on, who doesn’t like ice cream. If someone reading this doesn’t like ice cream I feel so sorry for you. You my friend are missing out on one of life’s simple pleasures. Maybe give it another go, you’ll thank me. Sorry I side tracked, back to Clingy. I inform him that yes I LOVE ice cream. He even has my favorite dairy free vanilla. This ice cream just might help him save this date. To all my male readers, just say yes to ice cream.
Well ice cream, shoes, and diamonds.
He brings me my bowl of ice cream. I’m so excited! Then I look in the bowl. He’s got less then a quarter of a cup of ice cream in the BIG deep bowl.
Inner Monologue Moment: WHAT THE FUCK? Where’s my fucking ice cream? Where?!? He obviously doesn’t know how to use an ice cream scoop. I felt like telling him, its the tool in most kitchens that actually scoops ice cream. Do not give guests fucking slithers of ice cream. Maybe he’s on a diet? So he thought that I was too. FUCK THAT! Bitch give me my fucking ice cream!!!!!!
As I’m looking in my almost ice cream-less bowl I also see frozen blueberries. Great! I guess he wants me to crack my teeth. I also see slimy looking grapes. But I decide to be a good sport, and try everything. I eat a grape, first bite, CRACK! There are seeds in these fucking grapes. That Clingy dumbass could have warned me. It’s bad enough that I almost crack my dental work on slimy grapes. But there’s no real ice cream in my bowl to console my ice cream hopes and dreams.
We move to the sofa, I’m hugging a pillow. He keeps giving me strange looks. Then Clingy says he’s jealous because the pillow is getting more action then he is. Clingy says right after that he is going to have to guard his heart. Because he knows that I’m going to break his…
Inner Monologue Moment: I’ll tell you what a broken heart is like. It’s no fucking ice cream in your ice cream bowl! That’s true heart break my not so wonderful Clingy friend.
He then tells me a story while he’s guarding his stingy ice cream deprived heart that the women in his office always look down at his pants when he enters. Ummm… okay. Clingy then informs me that his pants were clinging to his junk. So he thought that this meant his junk was more impressive than all others.
My, my okay, brag much?
I of course picked up on what he was hinting. But that wasn’t tempting me. Most people I’ve found that brag about how good they are in bed generally aren’t all that fantastic. So all I’m hearing is wonk wonk.
He says why don’t we get some fresh air. We walk outside. I sit down. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes. I was under the impression he was quit. So much for that. He asks more questions: Have you ever been married? Answer: no Have you been in a committed relationship for more then a year? Answer: yes His coup de grace, has anyone ever wanted to marry you?
Inner Monologue Moment: That fucking motherfucker. He has the audacity to ask me that?
I answered his rude question with yes. I have informed him that it’s not something I’m currently comfortable talking to him about.
Instead of sitting in his chair, he goes in for what I think is a hug. I jerk back automatically. He got down on both knees, and lays his head in my lap. He asks to hold my hands.
Here I am on a darkened porch, with the equivalent of a man child curled in my lap like a kitten. All I can think of is if I wanted to play with a kitten I could have played with my own at home. I also wouldn’t of had to endure the bad wine.
Clingy asks what I’m doing later tonight. If I don’t have plans I’m welcome to drunk dial him. He’ll come and pick me up or cuddle with me. At this point I don’t want to give him any encouragement. I tell him I’ve got an early morning tomorrow for work and my furry baby needs dog food. Teddy has gotta eat.
If you have been following me on Twitter you know that I have been posting about an annoying individual. Clingy is that individual. Here’s the link.
After much thought and consideration I finally came up with a succinct be gone message. Then sage the room, sprinkle holy water, sit in a sweat lodge whatever the fuck you want to call it. I just needed to get rid of him.
He replies with an essay. In the essay he explains that he has a girlfriend, whom he is very interested in. HOLD ON, BACK UP, didn’t we just have dinner where you said you wanted to spend more time with me. But you have a girlfriend… Confused much? Mixed signals, yes. I’ll spare y’all the entire essay. But it was a hoot to say the least.
Advice: Beware of Tinder