The Marlboro Man

I don't smoke. I don't drink. I don't do drugs. I guess some would consider me a bore but that is how I choose to live my life. I don't pass judgment on others who live differently than I do, but I have learned I cannot date a smoker.

I met The Marlboro man on okcupid. I knew he smoked, it's not like he was the first guy I've gone out with who smoked. The only thing I ask of a smoker is if they can wait to have a cigarette until after the date. I smoked for 15 years. I've been the person who didn't smoke when dating a non-smoker. It's not a huge sacrifice to make. All the guys I've dated who smoked were fine with this. They would chew a piece of Nicorette gum instead of inserting a cancer stick into their mouth. This guy on the other hand not so much.

He was cute. Tall and cute. We met at the local coffee shop in town (yes I know, setting up a smoker for failure) and talked for an hour or so before heading to dinner. On our way to dinner (we walked) he smoked. After dinner, on the walk to the car, he smoked. When we got to my house (we were seeing a concert later in the night), he smoked three times. He was outside more than inside.

Now I did ask him if he'd consider not smoking while we were out. Well you can see how that was going. Kissing a smoker when being a non-smoker is just plain nasty.

We went to the concert where he smoked on the way in. I think we may be up to six cigarettes in a three hour time frame at this point in the date. His attitude was getting worse and that was bothering me way more than the smoking. He seemed smug, a little too arrogant. He had this "fuck you if you don't like it" attitude which just isn't cool. Not on a first date or a tenth date. He started questioning why I had become so quiet. I had definitely left my personality back in Jersey and was at the verge of not going into the concert. Three more hours with this guy seemed like an eternity.

I had gotten club seats from a rep and it was a great box, catered with good food and great seats. (I only took The Marlboro Man to the concert because I literally had no one else to go with. Not a good first date idea I now know.) The guy literally did not sit with me. He sat with the food the majority of the night. When we did sit together, he didn't say "I'll be right back" or ask if I needed anything while he was up. He just got up and left.

He wanted to smoke (shocking) and asked if I wanted to go with him outside. I said sure, I mean I didn't know the music they were playing anyway. Outside in the smoker’s lounge, he again asked why I was so quiet. I told him it was clear that there wasn't a love connection here because of our conflicting personalities. He looked at me bewildered, like I was an alien and he had been on a date that was going swimmingly well. As he puffed away on his stick I felt this sadness inside of me. How many more dates will I have to go on before I meet the guy I actually want to see again because he was not it.

We finished up the night and I made the best of it. I figured why not enjoy the next hour or two whether he was an asshole or not, I was stuck there so I miswell have a good time. His attitude had changed and things were going better. We kissed good night, he was a very good kisser, but when I told him it was time to go he said "It's not like I'm trying to fuck you." And just like that, the asshole was back.

Things That Make You Go Hmm....

I met this guy over the summer at a speed dating. We kept in touch over the past few months but just finally went out for dinner the other night.

We met at PJs in Haddonfield. I had a horrible day and wasn't really in the mood to go out but I wasn't really walking into an actual "date", I saw it as dinner with a friend. I wasn't sure if I was interested in the guy for a few reasons, so I didn't have any real high hopes anything would come of it, but then again, you never know.

We sat down for dinner. I ordered my favorite soup; french onion, well done, and a salad. He followed suit and ordered the same. We were making small talk about dating and how hard it can be at times when he says to me "I have to tell you something that will probably shock you." Now I've heard and seen just about everything when it comes to dating. Hell just the other night I had a man ask me if I was a witch. Apparently he had just had a date with a Wiccan so this was a new, standard question he asked women. I should have showed up on our date dressed like this...I have a feeling if I had he wouldn't have cared if I was, indeed, a witch!

In fact, he probably would have asked me to spank him with my broom...but I digress.

 

As I waited to hear what this "shocking" news could be, I couldn't have conjured up in my head what came out of his mouth next. He said "I'm a swinger." Now I thought one had to have a partner to swing, which was my first question. Here you can be single and swing, I guess it may not be as easy as being coupled up but one can swing solo. I was flabbergasted. I mean WTF - I have been on a lot of weird dates but this one was taking the cake. He then pulled out his wallet and handed me his "Pleasure Den" or some shit like that membership card to let me know he was for real. Yeah, really fucking weird!

 

I asked him a bunch of questions, one of them being if I could blog about him. He said I could, that is, if I joined him one night at one of the parties he goes to. I said hell no! Though honestly I am curious as to what goes on at one of these shindigs. Spankings? Whippings? Man on man? Man with man and woman? Woman and man while others watch? Is there a two for one deal some nights? But at the end of the day, tattoos and all, I am a conservative woman when it comes to sex, especially being shared and me sharing my man.

 

Needless to say things would never work out with my swinging friend, but hell were my eyes opened up to a world most of us never think about. He said swingers are regular people, just like you and me, which I can totally see. We are all a little freaky deaky in our own way, and if swinging is what gets you turned on, then I saw swing away!

 

The next day I checked my OK Cupid account. I was matched up with a transsexual man. Yes a transsexual man. He was in the midst of reclaiming his manhood (literally) after being raised female. I suppose he was a hermaphrodite at birth. He was my match of the day. My fucking match of the day. Sometimes you just have to shake your head and laugh at the insanities of trying to meet someone. Swingers, witches, hermaphrodites...all within a five day period. All I need now is a midget hitting on me. Oh wait, yup, that already happened.

 

 

 



Patent Pending

I met "Patent Pending" on a Friday night for a movie. We went to see The Campaign since we were both huge Will Farrell fans. He was cute, a tad shorter than me, but he wasn't a scrawny guy so the height difference wasn't a big deal.

We were early for the movie and the theatre hadn't let out yet so we waited in line to get in. You know how you don't like others to overhear what you’re talking about? Well that's the type of girl I am, especially on a blind date. I don't need the world to know about my pathetic dating life. Blogging about it is one thing, having people actually see and hear about it is another. Ths guy was so loud. He kept complementing me which is nice but it was over the top. The women behind me kept looking at me with sympathy. He was a dork. A short, dorky guy. I was trying to get him to shut up by not feeding into the conversation but he was a talker!

After the movie, which he talked almost the whole way through, we went to a local bar for a drink. He had told me earlier in the night he had been working on a patent, and if, when bought, would yield him millions of dollars. Currently he was working part-time so he was really banking on this going through. When we got to the bar (we drove separately), he brought in a folder of paperwork. He said he didn't want to leave his patent paperwork in the car for fear it would be stolen. We were in Cherry Hill, not Camden. I really don’t think someone is going to break into his car for a folder of paperwork whether we were in Moorestown or Kensington...who the hell cares?

I rolled with it. After all he seemed like a nice guy with some quirks but we all have quirks. He wanted to keep the date going so we decided to head into Philly (folder and all) to go salsa dancing. I drove (I don't drink and he was already a beer and two shots in) and on our way to the city he started telling me the craziest stories. Some so crazy I won't even write about them. The cliff notes version is he had had some bad things happen during his childhood, which in turn caused major anger issues as an adult. He played a lot of sports in his teenage year which masked the issue but by the time he was in his early twenties it had gotten so bad he had to be institutionalized. OK - this is where I decided to turn the car around and head right back to Jersey.

He kept on rambling on and on about his issues. He reassured me that he never actually hurt anyone, or caused any bodily damage. He just had some real mental issues that he was working through.

I took him back to his car, made up some lame excuse, and drove the fuck away. The guy was a mental case, literally.

He still texts me every so often and asks me out. The last text was about him renting a Maserati and us going to AC for the night because his patent was going through and he was going to be worth millions. I'd much rather date a man worth thousands with a Ford than Looney Tunes.

The "Pot Head"

I dated the “Pot Head” a few years back...actually more like six years ago but who's counting? A story is a story! I met the Pot Head at PJ's for a drink after exchanging numerous emails. He had a great sense of humor; the chemistry between the two of us was instant! We laughed, busted on each other and had a great time. I was so excited when he asked me for a second date!

He picked me up for dinner and at first I couldn't remember why I was so into him. He had a lazy eye (I now am a sucker for a lazy eye) and was quiet. We went to an Italian restaurant where he had made us reservations. Little things like opening a car door, making reservations, etc. add up and can really sway a woman from not being sure about a guy to liking him. I was impressed but while we waited for our table it was awkward. Whatever we had the first time we met was gone. I wasn't sure how to handle the situation.

Over dinner he seemed to loosen up a little as did I. I guess we were both nervous and an hour into the date we were right back to laughing and having a great time. Dinner was amazing and when we got into his truck he looked at me, leaned over and kissed me. It was one of those fireworks going off in every direction kind of kiss. A kiss that only happens a few times during a lifetime. I was smitten by this guy! He was funny, had a good job, was chivalrous and there was no shortage on chemistry.

Every time we would get together for a date our lips would instantly connect and before we left the house we'd be kissing. We'd make out in the park, at the bar, in the car, on the couch; at the Phillies game...we just could not keep our hands off each other. I thought I had struck gold!

Now I don't drink. I don't smoke nor do I use drugs. I don't care if a man I date drinks, unless he's an alcoholic of course but I'm not too keen on dating a guy who smokes or uses drugs. Say he smoked a little weed here and there - that I could live with. But when the Pot Head confessed to me that he was a heavy pot smoker I was crushed. I felt like the wind had been removed from my sails and my happiness dissipated in thin air. Kind of like the way smoke disappears after you blow it out from smoking a joint.

He asked me if it was a big deal, or a deal breaker shall we say, and I was honest and said it was. What came as a complete shock was when he told me he'd stop smoking because he really liked me. Just like that, my balloon was re-inflated and I was as high as a kite. No, not literally!

A few weeks went by and things were still going great. One night we went on a double date and when back to his place. Upon entering the house, a familiar smell creeped out the front door. His roommate and friends were there smoking a shit load of pot. Listen, I was 28 at the time. I haven't done puff puff give in an easy 10 years if not more, so sitting there I thought to myself what the fuck am I doing here? Being stone sober with a bunch of stoned people is not what I call a good time. I swear I saw this banner hanging in his roommates bedroom:

 

My beau looked at the joint longing for a hit, or two, or three. Hell he looked at that joint with more longing than he had ever looked at me with! I knew right then and there my man was more into a lady named Mary Jane than myself. He ended up smoking that night. And the night after. And the night after that. Needless to say I would definitely cramp his style and things would never work out but man I will never forget the way he kissed me. Too bad Mary got between us.

The "Foot Fetish" Man

I met the "Foot Fetish" man on match.com. We were exchanging text messages Saturday afternoon and all in all he seemed like a fairly normal guy. He asked me a lot of questions, one being if I had any pet peeves or fetishes. I replied with my typical list of pet peeves: laziness, tardiness, lack of drive/motivation, not open to trying new things, etc. I have to say in all honesty I don't have any weird fetishes which got me thinking maybe I should get one, but that’s neither here nor there. I asked him what his were and he replied with "I've been told before that this is weird, but I have a foot fetish." I wasn't sure exactly what he meant; I've heard of fetishes before but never knew what the extent of one could be. I asked him to explain what the fetish consisted of. He said that he really likes feet, very pretty feet. He likes to touch them and look at them in different shoes. Kind of like trying on lingerie for your man but instead trying on shoes turned this guy on. He even went as far to say he wouldn’t date a woman if she had bad feet.
 
The fact that this guy really had a thing for feet didn’t bother me. We all have something...no matter who you are there is always something. What was strange is when he asked me to send him a picture of my feet. It was as if he wanted to pre-screen my feet before actually meeting me. Remember the Eddie Murphy movie "Boomerang?" There's this scene in the movie where Murphy's character pulls off the bed sheet to check out this beautiful woman's feet. They weren't to his liking so he decided to never see her again. I mean come on now, how picky can you be?!?!?
 
I decided to play along, I mean hell I never had a request like this before and was interested in knowing if my feet would pass his test. So I slipped off my Uggs and propped up my feet, hoping the lighting was just right to make them look magnificent. It's not easy trying to make your feet look pretty, at the end of the day they are feet and are not meant to be attractive. After a few takes I decided my feet weren’t going to get any better looking and sent off the picture. So here, for your viewing pleasure, are my big, size 10 feet:



Thankfully my toes were polished because if they weren't I think he may have had a stroke.

I anxiously awaited his reply, wondering if he liked what he saw. Ding ding ding! They were approved! He liked my feet! Woo hoo this meant he would meet me for a date! I felt so honored and overwhelmed with emotion that I gave my feet a little high five for a job well done. (I could not be being any more sarcastic.) 

When we did go out I found out he was living in his relative’s basement and unemployed. My poor feet were so disappointed L they literally couldn't wait to walk away.

Frustrated

This post isn't about a bad date I've been on, instead it's just a brain dump of my thoughts on dating in general.

If I count the years I've been single and dating we're looking at around seven. That may not sound like a lot of years but if you're actively dating it can feel like a century. I've tried everything from blind dates, speed dating, numerous dating sites (I'm embarrassed with the amount of money I have spent on them. I could probably have bought myself an expensive handbag or take a trip to Italy!) But at the end of the day I am eternally optimistic that I will meet someone and develop a long term relationship. Getting to that point on the other hand is hellish at times!

After going on a string of bad dates, one may find them contemplating celibacy. I have on numerous occasions proclaimed to never date again! It's a fucking jungle out there and the rules have changed. What is with the three date rule? Google it - it exists. Now a days sex is expected, if not given, on date three. I decided not too long ago to throw my standards and morals to the way side and tested out this three date rule. Guess what? Never got a fourth date! And it did not surprise me. But I liked him and decided to give this new way of dating a try. Yeah I won't be doing that again! 

The rules, or lack there of, have all but completely disappeared in 2012. I'm not  touting dating should be a game of chess but what i have learned this past year of dating is it is. Dating is a game, and if you don't play it, or don't play it well, you're going to lose. Not all the time but the majority of us will. I have thrown out all of my "rules" trying to be more of a modern woman, or more available and guess what...it ain't working!

We women have so many different outlets on dating advice. Cosmo, books, Google, etc... No wonder why we're, or shall I say I, am so confused! One article says one night stands can lead to a relationship, another will say wait three months before having sex. Call him, it's ok to be the aggressor, men like that. Then you're told do not pursue at all. I thought I found a happy medium between the two but I'm starting to think differently.

Dating is hard, meeting and developing a good,healthy relationship is even harder. Maintaining one for years is the hardest. 

You know I write a lot about bad dates, mainly because they are funny. But lately I've been more and more disappointed with myself, with men and with the game that I need to go back to what works for Val and fuck what the books and magazines say. At the end of the day you have to if not be happy (which I hope you all are) but at least content with yourself.

The Firefighter

I can't remember who set me up with the "Firefighter", I think it may have been an old bartender friend of mine. She did a really good job on selling him to me, part time cop, full time firefighter....all I could think of is what uniform I wanted to see him in (and out of) first!

He was out with a group of friends so I rounded up my single friends, which at that time turned out to be my single friend, Sarah, and met him at a local bar/restaurant in my hometown. When I first saw him I was shocked. He was not a good looking guy; I mean he was downright ugly. As Sarah said "His face would look better if he had been in a fire." I know that is harsh but man was he fugly. GREAT body, BAD face. It's hard to keep a straight face in these situations, and it's really hard to look at someone you are simply not attracted to. I made pleasantries with him for about an hour or so and declined going on to the next bar with them. He messaged me later that night asking me out on a date. I tried to decline nicely but he wasn't getting the hint. I used the "I don't feel any chemistry" line which somehow turned into me going on a date with him a few days later.

At PF Changes I was still having a hard time finding him attractive. I mean he wasn't as ugly as I thought he was the night we met, but I still didn't find him attractive. I was trying everything to let him know we weren’t a good match so I said I liked a blue collar, hardworking man but he needs to clean up well and be able to talk business at events I have to attend for work. Pretty much I was trying to say is I have unrealistic expectations and am extremely picky with hopes he’d find me to be a snob and not be interested. Well that backfired when he took his black dinner napkin, placed it in front of his face and quickly dropped it and said "I'm white collar", then brought the napkin back up to his face, dropped it again and said "Now I'm blue collar." He did this a few times with enthusiasm and ended it with "I'm a chameleon!"

On the way home I again said I didn’t feel any chemistry when he asked to see me again. That again was brushed off. When he walked me to my door I tried to say good night and go in but he was quick and kissed me. When the kiss was over he said "Now how's that for chemistry?" and proudly walked away. All I kept thinking was it wasn’t a bad kiss but then again my eyes were closed.



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