Dating Tips for Boys & Girls: knockers

*** Editor's note: Alecia in North Carolina's a rare breed on Datingisweird.com, a guest blogger unafraid to use her real name. Take that, Anonymous! ***

So I met this guy online. We'll call him Idiot. Idiot and I spoke for a couple weeks via email, IM, phone calls and text. He seemed like a really nice guy and we had a lot of common interests. He lives about an hour away so getting together for coffee wasn't as easy as all that, but eventually we did make plans for a Friday night.

So, I get all dolled up. Black pants, sexy tank top, little make up, little perfume, I'm good to go. I waited for him to arrive with excitement and just a touch of nervousness, but I honestly just knew we were going to have a good time. Idiot arrives and gets out of the car to shake my hand and say hi. I hop in and first things first, we have to make a quick trip to Target because apparently he needed to get his nephew some birthday present. We're on our way and literally, about a whole 2 minutes into the ride Idiot looks over at me and says, "Your boobies look nice."

I'm sorry...uuhhh...what? My inner thoughts: "You're 29 years old and you still say boobies? And secondly, what the fuck dude?"

I didn't actually say these things; I just told him to shut up. Idiot laughs, "Okay, okay, sorry." So I thought to myself, oh he just had a dumb guy moment. We get to the store and everything is good. I move on, I forget for a bit that he mentioned my tits and referred to them as boobies. We arrive at dinner and Idiot orders a mass amount of food which I find not only disturbing, but also hilarious as he just got done telling me how "healthy" he was trying to be. Umm, yeah, when you order the salad, it actually stops being good for you when you pile a half a pound of cheese on it, and bacon, and chicken, croutons and a half gallon of ranch dressing. (no, I don't care that the bottle says "Light" - you're retarded) Anyway...as we sit there and I begin to munch, him shovel, I notice that Idiot's leering at me; staring at me in this very intrusive way that has me tugging at my shirt again.

Finally I look at him and I say, "What? Why the crap are you staring at me like that?"
Idiot: "You know, it's funny...out of all the girls I've dated, you're not all my type, HOWEVER, I kinda wanna do you right now."
My inner thoughts: "Do me? Did he really just tell me over my Greek salad that he wants to DO me? Awesome." The people at the table next to us gasped and choked. I felt their pain.

Me: "Can you bring me home now? No, like...right now. Stop eating, check, car. Let's go."

***GUEST POST!***

Here's another post from Jorge, one of our few, but much loved, male readers. It contains some f-bombs, unabashed judgment, and failed physical contact - these are a few of our favorite things.

How to Wither an Important Appendage

This is less a story of a date than one that makes me lose faith that I will ever meet the girl of my dreams while horribly intoxicated, as I have always expected I would.

One night recently, at about 3 am, I found myself with one of my friends, terribly inebriated after spending some time at a bar. Big goddamned surprise. I had spent the eve watching an incredibly attractive girl, who had come to the bar with another friend, totally mindfuck all kinds of dudes who, it appeared, unequivocally spend very little time conversing with anything over, say, a 4.

I quickly came to realize that, besides being a colossal cocktease, this girl was also very fucking stupid, and an unparalleled belligerent drunk.

Later, I learned, she was just terribly fucking afflicted with aspergers. Which caused me to retract about 70% of the loathing.

Anyways, around 3 am, friend 1 and I, in our drunken state, decided that ordering a 26" pizza was a great idea.

Friend 2 managed to find his way back over, while also managing to leave Aspergers at home. At some point, friend 2 received a phone call from some girl demanding sex or something. She also happened to have a friend who was apparently desperate to make out with someone.

While friend 1 and I were intrigued, friend 2 most certainly was not. He was certain that this girl would want to go home with him, which obviously wouldn't work, because Aspergers was there, and would do God knows what, should he stumble home with another female. Probably something extra belligerent. And understandable.

So they arrived, and the girl with a rather large chest, who also happened to be the one apparently jonesing for a make out, began shamelessly comparing her much larger tits to her friends much smaller ones. And not so casually inviting her friend to cuddle with her, apparently thinking that some girl-on-girl cuddling would cause our loins to burn with desire.

Every girl I met tonight seemed fucking stupid. I texted friend 1, "These girls are fucking stupid." He didn't notice. He was too busy using our tiny Asian friend as a cockblock. I was tired/passing out. Friend 1 and tiny Asian were tired/passing out. Friend 2 was pretending to be tired, and pretending to pass out. These 2 dumbshit girls were on a mission. So outside on the balcony they went to smoke, along with friend 2. To the couch I went, with a blanket.

A short time later, Miss Desperation comes in. I'm half asleep, and not terribly coherent. She says, "Hey, can you come here and help me with something?"

"Curious," I thought. "Very fucking curious."

So I stumbled up, and followed her towards a bedroom, where I was then lead to a bed, and then promptly pounced upon by a girl who, it seemed, was intent upon chewing my face off. Or licking it off. Or stirring up some imagined concoction in my mouth with her tongue. I came to the conclusion in about 14 seconds that either: A) I was somewhere around the 3rd person she had ever kissed, or B) she had never kissed anyone more than once.

I felt like I was being mauled and clawed by a feral dog. In addition to this, my face was forcibly shoved, at least, but not limited to, 4 times into her mountainous expanse of chest, to the point of near suffocation.

I have no idea what her name was. At one point, after a few minutes, she said "Oh, I probably can only stay for like, 5 more minutes," to which I responded "Oh." Which was the first, and also second to last thing that I said during the entire ordeal. The last was, "Okay," after "I have to go now...goodnight."

It's been at least 3 years since I kissed someone that made me contemplate never participating in that activity ever again. I vow, if ever I find myself in an "am I kissing a sloppy joe with teeth?" scenario, I-don't-know-her-name may be somewhat shocked when I stop the whole thing in mid-misery and say, "Enough. My penis has withered, and I don't even think someone spending life in prison could possibly enjoy this."

And I guess it shouldn't be a big goddamned surprise when I get punched right in the withered penis.

I guess my message is this: cup size is but a trifle when coupled with desperate snake tongue. Or something like that.

- Jorge

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