On Wednesdays, Amanda Chatel will be sharing stories about her strange, fascinating and sometimes wonderful dating life. If it makes you want to date, check out TheGloss dating page.
Yes, we have a couple more horror stories for you this week for Dating Hijinks. It’s not because I don’t love you, but I thought the positive ones, the ones that were actually awesome and sweet, could make their appearance next week when we’re all feeling warm and fuzzy, or angsty and pissy because the year is ending and you failed your 2012 resolutions yet again. Either way, you’ll need a pick-me-up then, and I would like to help in that matter.
Our first one is from MJ who, despite her adorable sense of humor in tricking a younger man, actually scared the shit out of him by convincing him he might have an STD. But it was for a laugh, so that’s totally cool, right?
I have so many but the one that makes me giggle the most is about my very dear friend Patrick. He is in his early 20’s and I am early 30’s. I was a bartender at a little bistro and he worked for the insurance company next door. After a year of relentless flirting on my part (it made me laugh to see how red I could get him to turn) we finally met out after work for drinks.
It took awhile of hanging out but we finally fooled around. I quickly realized he was not only young but he was very inexperienced. I felt like I was training a puppy. Since he lacked the knowledge of how to turn me on I tried helping him out with some lubrication. Yummy blueberry flavored! After an awkward bj and not so pleasurable (safe) sex he was on his way home.
Two days later he texted me and asked if I had any STDs. (WTF!) “Um, noooo,” I replied and asked why. He then said he developed a rash on his penis. I thought I would have fun with my young friend so I told him if he is that worried he should go to the doctor. I also assured him I’d call the five other guys I had sex with that week to make sure they where STD-free. He almost died when I said that, but I told him not to worry that one of them was a doctor. (Friends, I did not sleep with five other guys that week, but it sure was funny to tell him that.)
It turns out my buddy is just allergic to blueberry lube. Needless to say I never used lube with him again and like any good puppy he graduated training school. Have at him girls, he is a catch!
Is MJ being cruel or funny? I can’t decide, but cruel, when done with the right amount of flavor, can be funny. In my humble opinion, anyway.
And now back to Aimee, who during her last appearance in Dating Hijinks, dealt with a Norman Bates type character and had to get a restraining order against an imaginary person. Fun.
The guy I was in love with and my best friend started hooking up behind my back while I was still getting over our sudden breakup. When I found out, my friend said they were seriously dating for months; he said they hung out one time and drunkenly made out. Someone was lying.
It turns out my friend has a pretty serious personality disorder that makes her crave attention and act generally crazy or something. I’m not technically supposed to know this, but she had a serious obsession with me to the point that her therapist was scared for my well-being and recommended we separate permanently. It was super “single white female”.
As far as the guy, I still don’t know why he A. dumped me so harshly (it was so mean, it was like he was mad at me, but I still don’t know what I did), B. took my friend to a party or hung out with her at all (they were not friends), and C.) my friend fucking hooked up with him while I was still crying on her shoulder about it!
Anyway, I still don’t know what happened exactly, but he was like “my Swede”. He was my first and I was so devastated when it didn’t work, especially when he was all pissed off and dumped me after I returned from a weekend visit home (and I was sick the whole time!) My friend probably told him I was hooking up with someone else, the snake, but I’ll never know for sure what happened between them.
Good riddance. But tragically, I think we all need a Swede of our own to teach us a lesson and save us from future bullshit.
Lastly this week we have frequent commenter and overall snark-tress, Ms. Pants relaying a date in her usual “I’m amped up on Adderall” sort of way.
Went on a date with a kid from Starbucks because he was cute. He wanted to go to a coffee shop. I drove; he had no car. We get to the coffee shop where I have a beer and he has tea. He also proceeds to inform me he’s in AA and mentions his mother is a Santeria voodoo priestess.
So we go to my car to chitchat and maybe make-out. It’s cold, so the windows are up. He continues to “silent but deadly” fart in my car so much, it makes me sick. (Also, his kissing sucks).
I drive us home, feeling sick from fart-hotboxing. For the next two weeks, he simultaneously blows up my landline (remember those?) and cell phone continuously. I guess he couldn’t take a hint.
“Fart-hotboxing.” Now that’s a term I’ve never heard and have just promised to use as much as possible in 2013 – if only to get over my fear of saying the word “fart.”
It’s still your turn to confess the dates that have turned your stomach, ladies, so send me an email and let’s get this going: firstname.lastname@example.org.
Photo: College Candy