buddy. it’s MY d*mn blog.

so remember this guy?

well he’s apparently f*ing CRAZY.

seriously folks. first of all the dude randomly decides that he doesn’t ever want to talk to me again, and sends me a pansy five-part text message to let me know this. his reason? the ever-clever, “it’s not you, it’s me.”


I moved on. dated (read: made out with) other boys. lived my D*MN LIFE. realized, he wasn’t that cute to begin with, so there was no real harm done. and i swear to you people i did not contact him after that. not once. ok once. but only the day after the five-part text. and then i swear, NOTHING.

however, being the awesome person that I am. he apparently can’t get me out of his d*mn mind. so he decided to comment on my blog. (see here). when i saw the comment i was a bit disgusted that he had the nerve to read my blog. but then I thought, whatever. i’ll sell my soul for another click on this thing, so more power to him.

yes, i noticed that he not only told me he was on nutra system, he also suggested i try it. but whatever. he’s an idiot. who cares.

but THEN. oh. f*ing snap. I’m not sure if he got off his meds, or start taking some that he didn’t need or if he’s just naturally f*ed up, but he sent me another comment. only this one was a crazy rant about all the things he had decided he didn’t like about me on those ever-informative three and a half dates we had.

THREE AND A HALF DATES! and he didn’t even make it to second-base, so I’m not sure where he came out with all these opinions on ME!

Also, I’m not really sure if he understands how blogs work. see, I approve all the comments. That’s right. when you see that your comment is awaiting moderation, that means I am reviewing it to decide if I want to post it.


because his crazy rant is pretty freaking vicious, i’ve decided instead to pull snippets for your viewing pleasure: a. because I know you’re curious, and b. because i want to make fun of him.

“If someone has a neat gadget, maybe try keeping the compliments to yourself, or at least don’t mention how much it impresses you that I had a gps in my car. The people who have these things, don’t think it’s a big deal that they have them. It all went downhill from there.”

that is a direct quote people. DIRECT. apparently, when i told him I liked that stupid gps thing in his stupid car because I was trying to be nice, i somehow screwed everything up. that was our first date, so I’m not exactly sure why he even bothered to call after that, seeing as how i throw around the compliments all the time.

(after a LONG explanation of how I’m crazy for carbs and don’t eat well): “That might mean that “blog night” turns into “jog night”. Try it, I have. I feel like im 21 again and I’ve only been doing it for a week and a half.”

So you’ve been working out for a week and a half. WOW! that’s like what? 10 days. go you. j*ck*ss. also, did you think you were being clever with that rhyme? oh. you did? well, you weren’t.

“[Sh*t], I wish you ate healthy on your own. I didn’t want to be in charge of that task for the rest of my life.”

stupididiot say what? for the rest of your life? who the heck was talking about the rest of anybody’s life?

There were a lot of other VERY mean things in this rant that I’d just as soon forget, so I won’t re-post anymore. but i just wanted to tell you guys this story as a warning: NEVER let a boy you met on match.com see where you live. ever. because they might turn out to be CRAZY like this one. and for that matter, be careful about who you give your blog address to.

don’t worry. I have since flagged his IP address as SPAM through my filter, so even if he tries to comment again, it will just go into a magical file somewhere and I’ll never even see it.

there. now I can officially move one with my D*mn life.

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it’s official: if you email me on match.com, i won’t be able to read it…

actually. i will. until Jan. 6. But after that my subscription expires. it was a fun two months don’t get me wrong. i went on six first dates and five of them paid for my dinner, so i figured i’ve recouped my losses.

but, here’s the thing. with real dating, when you meet someone, the most enchanting part is when they pick you. for some reason, they see you in a club, or at a wedding, or in the cheese aisle, or at the office water dispenser, and of all the girls in all the world, they pick you. to talk to. or kiss. or hug. and that’s my favorite part of dating.

but when you meet someone online, they pick a picture of you. and no matter how accurate the picture is, and how clever your profile is, it can’t possibly capture your essence. so that person has to set out to figure that out over dinner. but on that first date, they’re aren’t really picking you out of a crowded room. instead, they’re seeing if they WANT to pick you, and they’re comparing you against all the girls in all the world. and what’s the fun in that? then it turns from a date to a job interview, and i’ll just level with you. bad job interviews suck about 20 minutes in.

im sick of the fake conversation. and the awkwardly asking if they want me to split the bill. and the stress of trying to pick a restaurant in between our two houses. and the fear that the guy could in fact turn out to be a mass murderer.

im not going to pretend to be one of those 20-something girls who’s happy about being single. but im not going to pretend online dating is my thing either. so for now, i’ll just keep my $34.99 a month, and see what fate sends my way. maybe, i’ll check back in with the whole online dating thing in a few months, or a few years. or better yet, maybe i won’t have to. wouldn’t that be nice?

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dating boys is exhausting

o remember that whole match.com thing I mentioned in that one sentence in that one post? well. It’s going well.

last night i went to a boy’s house and he made me dinner.

DID YOU READ THAT? he MADE me dinner!

and it’s my understanding that the food was not at one point frozen or in any sort of plastic container covered with plastic. it’s also my understanding that it did not have to pass through a drive-through window to get to my plate.

now, you might be all, OH NO! what if he didn’t buy the wine you like? or. what if he bought icky salad dressing? or. what if he accidently put bacon in something?

don’t fret. 1. he got both red AND white just to be safe. 2. he disowned his italian heritage and bought ranch dressing because i told him i like it. and 3. the whole meal was meat free.

and he’s pretty cute, and sweet, and he recently went on vacation and while away sent me a post card, which made me smile for about 27 hours straight.

and im not sure where all this is going to go, but i just wanted to take a moment to be happy, because i kinda, really like him.

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