It's Gotta' Be the Perfume...
Mood:  surprised
Now Playing: Depeche Mode - Violator
I never have a problem getting dates. My problem seems to be finding dates who I actually want to go out with a second time. Seriously. You’ve read my weird musings and over the top rants. You have to realize that I’m not the average bear. It takes a specific kind of guy to deal with me. Someone who enjoys and appreciates the unexpected randomness of me and doesn’t want to try to curb it. Ain’t gonna’ happen bitch!

Lately, it seems like guys are coming out of the fricking woodwork! It must be my perfume as most of them seem to huff me and huff me deeply…continuously. I seem to be harkening back to my ring master days……I am running a multi-ring circus again and loving every minute of it. I am enjoying the endless dating, but the main reason is that I haven’t met anyone I would want to date seriously. I’m just enjoying meeting new people, flirting and having fun. I really have no desire for anything more…especially as no one comes close to fitting the bill of something more.

The weirder part is the random freaks who keep coming up to me out of nowhere! It’s really starting to creep me out! What is it pheromones? Examples? I had a guy come up to me while standing in line to get a beer at a hockey game. He seemed really normal as we casually chatted. Cute even. That was until he looked deep into my eyes and said “God, I really want to smell your hair.” WHAT? WTF?! EWWWWWWWWWWW! I grabbed my beer and bailed! Then there was the cute freak who approached me in Walgreen’s and told me that he had seen me three times in the last week. I calmly asked him if he was stalking me. He then told me that he noticed I always took care of my feet and hands. Well, one out of two was right. I am a fanatic about pedicures but my hands resemble a farmer’s. I garden. I have a horse. I am an artist. My hands are a mess. The only time they pass for ok is after a hard core manicure and some Lee Press On Nails. He then goes on to say that his mother told him that women who take good care of themselves will always take good care of him. Errrrrrrrr, whatever. I told him I was late for a date and bolted to my car. No small feat in light of the fact I was in 6 1/2 ‘CFM’ shoes.

Now mind you, those aren’t even the guys I’ve gone out with. Here’s the short list of one hit wonders:

• Captain I am one quarter Hispanic-who told me that I looked like “the type of girl who knows how to properly treat a Latino man.” For what? A gunshot wound? PUHLEEZE! I ain’t nobody’s barefoot mamacita!
• Mr. Gillette-who told me within the first 5 minutes of our date about how he shaves his “entire body” on a regular basis. “I mean why have armpit hair if I don’t have to.” Hmmmmmmmmm…TOO MUCH INFORMATION BITCH! GACK! I don’t want to know intimate details of your personal hygiene routine within minutes of our first ‘let’s trade life stories in a bar' date.
• Officer Creepy-a cop who proceeded to tell me that my name made him hot as he had a babysitter named Meg when he was a kid and “she was hot like you are. I used to think about her all the time and it made me excited. I never got over her. I still think about her. I love your name. It brings back all kinds of memories.” Yeah. I don’t even want to address this creepy one. Didn’t she ever cuff him upside the head and tell him he’d go blind?
• Matty Senior-an older version of my ex boyfriend. Super hot. Super sexy. Super useless. 33 years old. Career bartender with ambitions of being an actor although not actively trying cuz’ you know Spielberg’s going to discover you during a Pourmasters’ gig. Yeah right. Lives with 3 roomates in a four bedroom house and called me ‘sister’ all night and told me I was ‘solid’. AKA grow the fuck up. Like I need another Peter Pan wanna’ be at this point. Even scarier—knows Matty. Shoot me now.
• The Smooth Talker-at first, it seemed like he was a definite possibility for a second date and possibly an addition to the ‘regulars’ date roster. He was charming, intelligent, great at the verbal sparring I so dearly enjoy, got my wacky humor, etc. It started with a niggling concern that something just wasn’t jiving with him. I wondered if there was a possibility he was gay or at least actively bisexual as he drank pussy drinks and would have made Paul Lind blush with his flaming fag hands. If he’s not gay, I’m 99.9% certain he’s married and just a total nasty disgusting loser scumbag. Something about him was just not right—totally non-genuine vibes. Makes my skin crawl to even think about it! UGH!

While the cretin filled freakshow seems to parade on, I will continue to hang with the ongoing date roster and see what happens and who else stumbles along. I like them. They’re fun. There’s just no major “ZAH! I want a piece of that!” feeling going on with any of them. But at least I’m not worrying about whether or not I will need to beat them off me with a stick or have to resort to pepper spray.

My father always says I “bring out obsessive tendencies in men.” I’m still hoping it’s just my perfume or seasonal pheromones...

Posted by azcoolchick0 at 4:48 PM NZT | Post Comment | Permalink
Updated: Friday, December 9, 2005 3:50 AM NZT