Get a Whiff of This

“My name is K but in high school I changed my name to J because I was selling my father’s anti-depressant medication and his name is K. I didn’t need the kids calling  Pops to hit him up for some viccodin. Now I am in my 30s still going by J because well, it just stuck, however, J has a super ego named BJ which J cannot be held responsible for.”  I take another sip of my wine to avoid asking him the question: ARE YOU FOR REAL? 

My dating life has become the comic relief at social gatherings. I am just prone to a gamier type of meat when it comes to the dating world.  Most people ask me why I stay when the opening act is so bizarre; it’s not like I don’t agree with them when they say “it can only go downhill from there” remarks but I just can’t help it. I see a making for a great performance that will keep this spirited 30 year old female abhorrently amused.

We get into his car to change locations. “I can ask Uncle Google what is going on on this happening Tuesday night.” He actually talked like that, imagine Christian Bale as Patrick Bateman in American Psycho. "It says here that we are in Another Town.”

To return video tapes?! Yeah, I know what happens next: he starts playing Huey Lewis and the News and lays down some plastic. Here comes the roar of a chainsaw  and we are on our way to being too hip to be square. Yet still the whole time I will be thinking, ‘at least he still looks good while he is CUTTING MY BODY INTO PIECES and even the part of his hair that is a bit scuffled seems so perfectly placed’ really, Mocha…get it together.

“Actually we are in This Town.” Didn’t I tell him to meet me at such and such place in This Town, how did his phone get him here if it thinks he is still a couple cities over?

“Um no, my dear, this is the smartest phone out there, it is the HTC Evo 4G. If it says we are in Another Town then we are in Another Town.”

“If you, sorry,  your phone, says so but we are in This Town.” His profile was brilliantly written, the pictures made him seem fun and cool yet somewhat established. When we chatted via email and text he got every joke and agreed with every nuance. So when did this guy show up? K who is now J that is sometimes BJ. What? What does that even mean? That you are Tri-polar?

“Well, I know of this place down the street called Shooting Blanks and it is probably pretty laid back on a night like tonight.” I say, trying to get the date rolling.

“Oh…I can’t go there.” As he holds his cigarette in his teeth so the smoke won’t stain the outside of his teeth, cause smoke is controllable that way.

“Why not?” I wanted to retract the words from my lips the very second they reached them.

 “I may, or may not, have cum inside one of the bartender’s girlfriends.” The romantic words that any and every woman wants to hear from her internet date whether in jest or not, you know I was just putty in his hands after that!

Smells like petunias!

I would like to take a moment to apologize to my mother, sorry mom. She would love for me to find my next partner out of this crew of 30 something year olds. My Daddy issues have always led me to gravitate towards men who are 5-7 years my senior but age ain’t nothin’ but a number (right?) so I continue to give love a chance and another chance and yet another chance. Scratch that, it is not “love” that I am giving chances to, it's any sort of somewhat sane (not completely sane because there is no fun in that) human connection. I understand that we all have our demons that we keep hidden until we have duped our significant other into thinking that our fecal matter smells like petunias. Sorry boys and girls, shit is shit and it's just about whose farts you don’t mind smelling on a semi-regular to regular basis. Let me get a whiff of yours, my dear.