You're Reading the Words of a World Record Holder

Readers!! I have good news and bad news!!

Here's the good news: I can no longer bitch about the fact that I'm 22 years old (plus or minus 1 to 10 years) and have never had a boyfriend!!

I wish I could have seen you fall off your desk chairs just now. Yes, rub your eyes and re-read that sentence. It still says the same thing - "I can no longer bitch about the fact that I'm 22 years old (plus or minus 1 to 10 years) and have never had a boyfriend!!"

Booyah!

Finally. A man asked me to be his girlfriend. His words were uncreative but still music to my ears for they were words I've awaited my entire life: "Will you be my girlfriend?"

And then we cuddled and made out for hours as he told me things like "I'm all yours now" and "I want to be your boyfriend."

It was amazing.

"Is this love?" I thought to myself.

I savored 5 hours of this bliss.

But then...

...

...

...

... the alcohol wore off.

And here, readers, is where the bad news comes in.

Ready for it?

He sobered up, realized what he had just been saying, and then said, "I told you this before. I don't want to be in a relationship right now."

BAM!

New World Record: SHORTEST RELATIONSHIP EVER = 5 HOURS!!!

Bahahaahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

How HILARIOUS is my life?!?!

People ask me if my stories are true, and I can now see why because even THIS ONE seems preposterous to me. I can't even believe this happened, and I fucking LIVED IT!

And so now I have to live with the ramifications of holding this title, and by this, I mean the many awkward conversations I'll have to endure in the future.

Example 1:

Someone: So when was your last long-term relationship?

Me: Depends on what you mean by long-term.

Someone: 6 or more months.

Me: What? 6 or more HOURS?

Someone: No. 6 or more MONTHS.

Me: Fuck! How about 5 or more hours.

Someone: What the fuck are you talking about?

Me: Shit. Nevermind. Well, I guess the answer is, 'NO, I've never been in a fancy shmancy LONG-TERM relationship' then, per your RIDICULOUS standards. Asshole. Why'd you have to rub it in?

Someone: What the hell is wrong with you?

Me: So so much...

Example 2:

Someone: When was the last time you were in a relationship?

Me: Oh. August 21st.

Someone: Awww. You remember the exact date it ended?

Me: Yeah, it was pretty rough.

Someone: I'm sorry. How long were you together?

Me: Since August 21st.

Someone: Oh no! You broke up on your 1-year anniversary?

Me: No. He dumped me after he sobered up and realized he had made a mistake.

Someone: Oh my god.

Me: Yeah, yeah. I know. NOW will you let me have that 7th vodka tonic? Thanks. Thought so.

Example 3:

Someone: How long was your longest relationship?

Me: 5 hours

Someone: Ha! You mean 5 months? Or 5 years?

Me: No, you piece of shit. I'm not a retard. 5 HOURS. As in 300 MINUTES. As in it ended more quickly than my Saturday afternoon naps.

Someone: Oh..... Wait. REALLY?

Me: Yes. Really.

Someone: Oh....

Me: Yep. I know. It still hurts.

Someone: That sucks.

Me: No. It FUCKING sucks.

*sigh*

Like my life wasn't already filled with enough excruciatingly awkward moments!

But on the bright side, I can now tell people "Yes, I HAVE been in a relationship" and "Yes, I HAVE had a boyfriend before."

And that's PRETTY fucking sweet!!!

I think I'm going to roam around the street now, tap randos on the shoulder, and just share the good news: "Hey! Guess what? I've had a BOYFRIEND. I know. I'm totally cool, right?"

Woohooooo!

German Sausage? No Thanks.

You know what I find to be an unpleasant way to be awakened? When a man, let's call him Wishful Wurst, purposely uses his dick to slap me on the ass.

You know what I find to be even worse than that? When Wishful Wurst does that multiple times throughout the night.

You know what I find to be EVEN WORSE THAN THAT? When Wishful Wurst does that multiple times throughout the night as he’s BEGGING FOR SEX that I had already clearly told him he would NOT be getting that night.

To give you some context into my level of rage, let me tell you that I find being woken up by someone -- regardless of how it's done (even if it's via the gentle rubbing of my back, the licking of my clit, or the kissing of my neck) -- to be one of the most ANNOYING things in the world, and I only tolerate being awakened in TWO situations: (1) you are dying or (2) I am dying. Otherwise, LET ME FUCKING GET MY FULL NIGHT'S SLEEP PLEASE.

Now back to the Wishful Wurst. Who is this deluded man who thought that ass slapping with his dick would be an effective way to tantalize me? A foreigner. A German, more specifically. AND, he was even a very well-educated German (LLM, JD, MS, and MBA). Clearly, although advanced degrees are incredibly reliable indicators for income and career status, they are HORRIBLY unreliable indicators for the ability to learn about The Art of Seduction (something that I have mastered despite my lack of an advanced degree... okay, not really, but I send a MEAN FLIRTY EMAIL).

Oh yeah. One more thing. When Wishful Wurst got undressed for bed, I learned that he “only wears thongs.” I'm sorry, dudes, but this is the way the world works (everywhere except for at a male revue): thong on me = supreme hotness; thong on you = Get the fuck out of my room. This was the reason why I was completely turned off and had known instantly that I wouldn’t be putting out that night. PUHLEEASE. Wishful Wurst looked utterly preposterous.

And so I’ve decided that I’m going to stick with American men. Never did I think I’d so appreciate boxer briefs and good old-fashioned getting me drunk or roofied in order to fuck me. God bless America!

Gangbangs, though fun, are not romantic.

This is a little tale that will demonstrate how fucking clueless and inept I am when it comes to men, dating, and everyday common sense. In other words, it's no different from any of my other posts.

A boy I had met at a bar (stop judging...where else am I supposed to meet high-caliber man? my fucking "friends" aren't doing SHIT to introduce me to people) called me and asked me out for drinks. We agreed to meet at a local wine bar for we both happen to be quintessential yuppies (yes, between 7:30 AM and 6 PM, I am a real working "professional" who doesn't use the word "fuck" in every other sentence).

So I agreed to go out with this boy, "Google Boy #1" (I originally wanted to just go with "Google Boy," by my foresight cautioned me that I'd better number these dorks because I'll likely whore it up with Google to try to get a free lunch ticket to their world-renowned cafeteria). Ehhhhh.... fuck it! His real name is "Andy," which I'm revealing because the bastard later rejected me.

When I agreed to go out with Andy, I warned him that I had already made dinner plans with some friends visiting from the UK (for I am a beloved global figure), so I'd have to call Andy afterward to figure out where to meet up.

My friends showed up at the restaurant and had brought other friends, so I was now with four black men. Unbeknownst to me at the time, 4 black men + 1 girl ==> gangbang. Or, it might lead to something like these men running a train on me. Anyhow, I was oblivious to all of this at the time and never stopped to wonder if Andy, a white, boarding-school-bred, Duke- and Cornell-educated Googler, would find it weird if I were to show up to our date with these four black men. Fuck you. Even genius must rest at some points.

So I went to the wine bar to meet Andy -- with Arthur, Ole, Kole, and Ade in tow. I then witnessed the flesh of a white man somehow manage to lose even more color. Andy was both confused and scared shitless. I ignored this obvious discomfort and focused on my priority of the evening: DRINKING. So I screamed out, "Let's drink, bitchesssssssss!"

We proceeded to guzzle a few bottles of wine together and then moved onto a nearby lounge so that we could dance the night away (no, Andy had not run home crying like a little bitch yet ). Arthur, Ole, Kole, and Ade were amazing dancers. The girls all wanted to freak with them. Andy... Andy danced like a deaf white boy, and the sad thing is, he was getting ALL into it. NO, it is NOT fucking "cute" when a guy TRIES to dance even though he can't. It's fucking humiliating and uncalled for. It's the reason why I have to cram a damn straightjacket in my fucking clutch every time I take a white man to a club.

I eventually grew tired of watching Andy struggle to find the beat. A hooker would struggle less with reading An Introduction to Modern Astrophysics. So I invited him to sit down with me so that we could chat alone and get to know each other better. This is when Andy finally confessed his feelings about this first date of ours. He told me, "When you first walked in with four black guys, I was totally weirded out, but then I thought, 'This girl must be a freak!'" And so he asked me out on another date (he would later learn the hard way just how freaky I am, but that's a story for another day).


LESSONS LEARNED:

1. You can take a man on the world's worst date, but if he thinks you'll let him do anal, he'll ask you out again.
2. Nerdy white boys are intimidated by black men, even if the black men are highly-educated and have refined British accents; therefore, do not bring such black men on your dates with nerdy white boys.
3. You should arrive at your dates alone, not with a group of men (I actually had to go back and ADD this because it completely escaped me when I first wrote this).

Coming Soon: A New Target ==> ME!!!

An interesting issue was broached to me the other night -- fairness. I was at a bar with one of my four readers, and this reader told me that it's totally fine for me to bash on my dates as long as I tell my stories fairly. I immediately told him to fuck off and find another blog because I don't have time to worry about being reputable. I'm protected by ANONYMITY, baby!!

But then I pondered the possibility of my identity someday being revealed, particularly as the inevitable popularity of this blog spreads across the land and I am crowned the Carrie Bradshaw of the 20-something singles set. If you are to worship me, I must value honesty at least slightly. And so I've decided to present a more balanced tale of my "love life." I hope I can forgive myself for this someday.

Also, I must confess something that will come as a shock to you, particularly if you are someone who actually knows me: I'm not perfect. Yes, I know it's hard to believe. I spend most of my time finding the exact opposite of that to be true, but then once in a while I fuck up BIG TIME, and I'm reminded that no, I am not perfect, and, in fact, I am far from perfection. So far from perfection that I could squint into the Hubble Telescope and not make out even one corner of perfection.

So what does this mean for you? This means you'll get to hear stories about all the times that I totally cock blocked myself with a guy and then got spit out like the gum you just realized you've been chewing all afternoon but had lost its flavor and softness hours ago. By the way, that was the world's perfect analogy. It really cuts to how a man will keep you around because it's convenient and he's too busy thinking about other things, but he one day realizes, "UGH! Why the fuck am I still working on this when I can get something new and tasty?!" and then hurls you out of his life. Ingenious. I know. It can't be stopped.

I suppose that you're now expecting me to launch into a hilarious, self-deprecating story about one of my failures, but, sorry, nothing's coming to mind yet. Searching for my mistakes in my immaculate past is like trying to find dirt on Gandhi. Good luck, bitches! But I'll come back to you with some good shit. Seriously, I will. And it'll be worth the wait.

Where'd he get that cash from? He got it from his mama.

The one you're about to hear is a DOOZY. It's a prime example of why I now believe that it's okay to ask obnoxious screening questions before committing to a first date.

I was feeling adventurous, so I agreed to have drinks after work with a quasi-cute guy who seemed pretty nice. I met him at a bar that I chose because it's gorgeous and has an awesome happy hour deal. The awkwardness and hideousness of this tale is best expressed, I feel, in the format of a script. My date's character shall be called "Muni," which also happens to be the name of the San Francisco bus system. My name shall be "Alexis" in order to protect my identity and the feelings of those about whom I so honestly blog.

SCENE: The outdoor patio of a trendy bar in San Francisco.

Muni: Hi, Alexis ! Nice to see you!
Alexis: Hey, Muni! Thanks for coming all the way over here for drinks!

[Muni and Alexis sit down at a table for two, peruse the menu, and order a round or drinks.]

Alexis: So how was work today? You're a teacher, right?
Muni: Yes, but I didn't work today.
Alexis: Oh, really? Why not?
Muni: I'm a substitute teacher. I'm still trying to get my teaching credential.

[Alexis thinks to herself, "WTF?!?! You're 28 years old and you don't even have a full time job?!?!]

Alexis: Well, that's great. Teaching is a really noble profession, and I know that male teachers are really in demand. So where in the city do you live?
Muni: On Street I Forgot and Street I Forgot.
Alexis: Cool! Do you have roommates or do you live alone?
Muni: I live with my parents.

[Alexis thinks to herself, "OH HELLZ TO THE NO. FUCK THIS SHIT!"]

Alexis: Ohhhhhh... COOL. So what do you do when you're not teaching?
Muni: Ummm... I lift weights.
Alexis: Awesome. Do you like to run? I love running outside.
Muni: I can't run because of my knees.
Alexis: Awww, that's too bad. So what else do you like to do in your free time?
Muni: I like watching wrestling.

[The check comes, and it totals $10.]

Alexis: Do you want me to pay for half?
Muni: Yeah, that would be awesome!

[Alexis thinks to herself, "NO, he di-n't!!!" Alexis literally puts $7 on the table (to help cover the tip as well) and vows to herself that she's done with this man. Alexis DOES NOT date men who live with their MOTHERS because Alexis is not 14 years old. Alexis is a grown woman who needs to find a man who has moved out of his parents' house and who has a full-time job. Alexis decides that this date must end IMMEDIATELY.]

Alexis: Well, it was great meeting you. I have to run! I'm actually going to go catch a basketball game at [SF Bar].
Muni: Cool! That sounds like fun! I think I'll join you! How are you getting there? Are you taking the bus?
Alexis: Yeah, I was...
Muni: Great. Let's go.

[Alexis thinks to herself, "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Alexis and Muni board a bus to the bar. The ride is painful. Alexis holds back tears as Muni tells her about how he had posted a Craigslist Missed Connection the prior week about a hot girl he had seen at the gym. Alexis and Muni arrive at the bar.]

Alexis: I'm hungry. I'm going to order nachos.
Muni: That sounds good. Can I split it with you?

[Alexis thinks, "NO! GO AWAY! I FUCKING HATE YOU!"]

Alexis: Yeah, sure!

[Hours of a basketball game pass as Alexis and Muni split nachos over very little conversation. Of course, the game goes into overtime. OF COURSE! The check comes.]

Alexis: I can get it.
Muni: Cool!
Alexis: It's getting late. I'd better get home.
Muni: Can I walk you home?
Alexis: No, I don't want you to know where I live.
Muni: [laughs]
Alexis: [laughs] Bye!!!

[Alexis walks home, vowing she will never date another man again. She occasionally turns around to make sure that Muni is not watching her to see where she lives. She arrives home and goes to bed, snuggled up closely to the feeling that she experiences after every date -- REGRET.]


LESSONS LEARNED:

1. Questions it's okay to ask a man before you agree to go on a date with him: Do you have a full-time job? Do you live at home with your mother? Are you too poor to take me out on a $10 date?
   
2. On a bad date, NEVER tell a man you're going somewhere afterward because you could end up going on a 6-hour date that should have ended after 30 minutes. Just say you're going home to sleep. Even if it's 6 PM. Fuck it! Lie! Do whatever it takes to shake him! To be extra certain he won't try to follow you, throw in a comment about how you were totally joking about being from town and that you're actually from Siberia but are leaving the next morning, never to return because you're terminally ill!
   

Shoo, Ugly, don't bother me.

My apologies to all of the ugly men of the world, but I've learned that an ugly man cannot grow on me.

I went on a first date with a guy who looked like Cro Magnon Man. The Old Me would have said, "Oh HELLLLLLLLZ no!" and busted out of that joint so quickly, but New Open-Minded Me decided to give this guy a chance because he had the potential to be socially unawkward, unlike all of my other dates.

Cro Magnon Man had a decent job (dentist), and he was from California, like me. He was also VERY NICE to me, constantly praising me for being cool, nice, hot, etc. Blah blah, I hear it all the time.

ANYWAY, I felt absolutely no chemistry with Cro Magnon Man during our first date, but I agreed to go on a second date with him, so we arranged a dinner at a nearby sushi restaurant that I love.

Dinner was fun, but my loins burned for him with the passion and heat of our raw sushi dinner. I decided that continuing this any further would only be leading this poor caveman on, so I decided that it was time to pull the rip cord on this not-being-shallow bullshit that everyone keeps trying to sell me on! I was over it! How am I supposed to date a guy if I am repulsed by the idea of him touching me?!?! FUCK THAT! That's BS!

So I conveniently planned an "out" by telling him that I had to leave at 10 because I was meeting a girlfriend at a club to see Ashley Simpson. I thought that surely this would get rid of him. It was FUCKING ASHLEY SIMPSON. I was literally going to watch Ashley Simpson lip sync her ass off, which should have been the most perfectly crafted escape hatch from this dungeon that Cro Magnon Man thought was a date.

Once again, because my life FUCKING SUCKS and is full of nonstop awkwardness, torture, and unrequited affection, Cro Magnon Man chimed in, "I'll come, too!"

FUCK! I am AWFUL at untangling myself from dates when the dude is actually nice, so, of course, I cheerfully proclaim, "Yeah, that would be awesome! Let's go!"

So we go to a club to meet my friend, and we wait around in this club for Ashley's emergence. Meanwhile, Cro Magnon Man can't keep his hands off me and keeps trying to kiss me because for some reason men think that being in a club makes grinding and making out in public socially acceptable. I spend my evening trying to run away from Cro Magnon Man, and I was at the point where I wanted to just run out of the club because his advances were becoming increasingly awkward to avoid. You can only turn your cheek to a kiss so many times. HOWEVER, I paid good money to see that ho Ashley "perform," so I didn't want to leave until I at least saw her!

BITCH didn't come out until one fucking thirty AM. In other words, it was a loooooooooong night with Cro Magnon Man.

Ashley danced around and pretended to sing, and she looked GORGEOUS. As soon as she was done, I grabbed my friend and told her we were getting the fuck out of there. We tried to bolt out of the club, but Cro Magnon Man found me and literally ditched his friend (who had met us at the club) to chase after me and climb into our cab!! FUCK!! It was like trying to lose Sherlock Holmes!!

So what did I do to finally shake this dude? I pretended I was sick and dropped him off! Then, my girlfriend and I got dropped off at another bar and proceeded to drink until the pain went away.


LESSONS LEARNED:

1. Don't give nice, ugly guys a chance. Men can grow on you, but not the ones who physically repulse you from the get-go. There's a difference between "He's sorta cute, but I'm not so sure" and "WTF?! Did homie ride here on a brontosaurus?!"
   
2. Ashley Simpson is way hotter than Jessica. Like WAY.
3. Don't assume that you can get rid of a man by mentioning "lame" plans. If a man wants to do you, he'll go ANYWHERE.
   

If you withhold sex after a man cooks, YOUR ASS is fried!

Apparently, if a man cooks you dinner, he thinks that his spatula is a ticket to your vagina. I learned this the hard way during date #3 with a boy whom I shall affectionately refer to as "Dine and Dash."

Dine and Dash invited me to his place for dinner, where we cooked an amazing dinner together. We're not talking the amateurish spaghetti bullshit that a lot of guys cook to try to get into your pants. We're talking steak and bacon-wrapped dates. Dine and Dash was SERIOUS.

Unfortunately for him, seeing as how this was only date #3, I was SERIOUSLY not ready to put out, so when he tried to bust out a condom on me, I hurled it across the room and laughed in his face (playfully, of course... I think). Well, apparently Dine and Dash didn't take this too well because despite what I thought was a romantic and splendid evening, I never heard from him again.

You're probably thinking that perhaps he dumped me for reasons other than my prudish ways. I, too, contemplated this thought for 2 milliseconds before realizing that this is not possible for I am an unbelievable catch.

[Sadly, I continue to run into Dine and Dash as he lives 4 blocks from me. I last saw him walking to a yoga class, and I immediately hid behind a car because I was wearings sweats and looking like complete ass (even I cannot look do-able at ALL times). Hopefully, someday this blog will become immensely popular and he'll read this and know exactly who he is.]


LESSONS LEARNED:

1. Don't let a man cook you dinner until you're ready to put out because he'll be pissed off if he doesn't get some after all of that work. If you do mistakenly let him cook for you when it's too early for sex, at least give him head. Kidding. This isn't what I did. Mom, dad, you're not reading this, right?
   
2. You need to carefully define what makes a man geographically desirable. You want to be able to see him often without hauling your ass across a town, lake, or ocean. You don't want to constantly run into him at your local library or bus stop. If you make this mistake, you will no longer be able to roam around without make-up and with your hair in a ponytail. You'll have to wear heels even when you go to Walgreens. ARE YOU READY FOR THAT COMMITMENT?

If you think I'm giving you dirty looks, it's because I am.

I agreed to meet a guy for coffee. He wasn't just any guy. He was a DOCTOR, so I already went into this date thinking that this guy would have to fuck up BIG TIME in order to not get a second date. I was almost blinded by the halo surrounding his head when I first laid eyes upon him. Am I a gold digger? No, but I'm tired of dating men who live with their parents or haven't read a book since Green Eggs and Ham (although it is a masterpiece).

We sit down to chat, and the doctor begins loudly questioning me with Awkward First Date Questions that cue in every fucking customer to the fact that we're on a first date, which I find completely horrifying and unnatural. So henceforth, I will call him Dr. Loud Fuckup. Anyhow, I try to answer his questions with a low volume in order to see if he will respond as any normal person would, which would be to also lower their volume. But of course, because this is MY LIFE, he's completely oblivious and continues peppering me with his Awkward First Date Questions loudly enough for me to check my phone to make sure there isn't a 17th person who is listening in on this mess.

Dr. Loud Fuckup tells me about his life, and I must admit, it is FABULOUS. He works only 3 days a week and owns houses all over the place. He also has really exciting hobbies, like helicopter snowboarding. But as this freakshow is telling me these stories, he does so with his ridiculously loud voice that has become a complete distraction to me. My irritation grows to anger, and when I am angry, it's obvious because my face is the mirror into my black soul.

Interestingly, Dr. Loud Fuckup actually PICKS UP on the fact that I am giving him the look of death every time he speaks because he actually called me out on it OVER THREE TIMES by saying, "Oh my god! Stop giving me such a dirty look!" While it is odd (and surprisingly refreshing) for me to be called out for being a total bitch, I'm relieved because at least I know that once this dreadful date is over, I'll never have to see or hear this monster again.

WRONG!

Cut to 3 days later when I receive a call from a number not yet in my phonebook. I let my curiosity get the best of me and actually pick up only to hear, hollering at the top of his lungs as usual, on the other end of the line Dr. Loud Fuckup himself! He fucking tricked me by calling from another number! AND he called me to hang out again even though I sat there during our date imagining ways I'd like to witness his death. WHAT IS GOING ON WITH THE WORLD?


LESSONS LEARNED:

1. In order to reject a man, you must do more than just shoot him consistent venomous looks throughout the date. You must actually use the words, "I absolutely hate you. Never call me again. Thanks for the coffee though. Toot-a-loo!" (Men like when you are thankful when they pay)
   
2. Don't pick up the phone when an unknown number calls because most likely it is a sneaky and unusually loud doctor trying to trick you into talking to him again.
3. Meet for dates in places that are very loud, just in case your date happens to sound like he is talking into a megaphone at all times. This way, the Awkward First Date Questions will be drowned out by all of the hullabaloo of the environment.
   

Q: What do you do if you're on a date with a guy whom you suspect is gay?

Disclaimer: Why are you asking ME for advice? Would you ask a teen mom where she sees her career in 5 years?! Oh well, fuck it!

Answer: DITCH HIS GAY ASS! Are you kidding me with that question?

Okay, in all seriousness, you might someday go on a date with someone whom you suspect is gay. This has happened to me on several occasions because gay men are drawn to my strong personality, impeccable style, and quick wit. Oh yeah, they like cocky bitches, too.

Anyhoo, I agreed to meet this dude, let's call him Tinkerbell (Tinks for short), at a sports bar. Do you want to know what Tinks showed up wearing? A turquoise polo shirt. I was like, are we in Nantucket? WTF?!?!

I let this slide and didn't run out the side door because I really am trying to be more open-minded.

We then discussed our drink orders, and Tinks tells me he thinks he's going to get a COSMO a la Sex and the City. I looked at him, waiting for him to start busting out laughing out loud. He didn't. I kept waiting. He didn't. My heart started racing, and I realized, this motherfucker is gay! Tinks is fucking gay! He is literally ordering a cosmo at a sports bar!

But again, I do not yet run out the door because this is the new open-minded me. Perhaps he is a secure, modern man who just enjoys cosmos! Yes, that's it. PLEASE LET THAT BE IT.

We start talking more, and I am distracted by his voice and hand gestures. Is Tink's voice more feminine than mine? Indeed, it is. Is he signing to me? WHAT is going on with his hands?

OMG HE IS GAY! HE IS TOTALLY GAY!

Now, I have absolutely nothing against the gays. Half of my best friends are gay, but I don't date them. We shop together, and they tell me how fabulous I look in my Hermes scarves, but that's it.

Anyhow, back to the story, I had to draw the line. This boy was obviously completely confused, and I am not going to be that girl who taught a man that he was actually gay. So I busted out of that bar and shouted, "Taxi!" and left his ass in the dust. And I still believe that was the mature solution.

LESSONS LEARNED:

1. If a man shows up to a date wearing a pastel shirt, pretend you didn't see him and leave the scene immediately.
2. If he catches you trying to walk out, scream out "Keep away, gay boy!" and just start running. Don't look back because it'll just slow you down. I know from experience.
   
3. If a man drinks any of the following drinks, he is gay: cosmo, appletini, anything pink or red. Take that drink and chug it. Then leave. Apply lesson #2 if necessary.
   

The Professor, The Magician

I went on a second date with a guy whom I shall refer to as "The Professor" because he is an actual professor and because he is so insignificant to me that I have already forgotten his name less than one month after our second date.

The Professor had been the perfect gentleman on date #1. He asked thoughtful questions, he opened doors, he walked me home, etc. , so I decided that he deserved a date #2. On date #2, however, The Professor stopped behaving like a gentleman and started acting like a complete creepster.

The Professor and I started the night off at a wine bar, and the date had gotten off to a hectic start because my power went out as I was looking up directions to our restaurant, so I showed up slightly late and with wet hair (since I couldn't use my blow dryer either). During dinner, he kindly offered to help me get my power back on at the end of the night, and I accepted.

The evening proceeded, and I started to get slightly creeped out because The Professor started asking overly sexual questions and making filthy jokes, such as "What's your favorite sexual position?" and "If you came to my office hours, I'd bend you over my desk and spank you." These remarks should have been red flags, but I was drunk at this point and laughed them off. Also, I really wanted someone to turn my power back on.

We then went to my house so that he could do whatever it was he needed to do with my fuse box so that I could continue living a life full of light and internet access. The Professor fiddled around in my garage, and we returned to my room so that I could test my power and internet. I opened up my computer to see if everything was working, and when I turned around, The Professor was standing before me wearing nothing but skin-tight, black BOXER BRIEFS (his body was sick, but that's beside the point)! Somehow, in the 4 seconds that I had my back turned, The Professor had QUICKLY, SILENTLY, and MAGICALLY removed nearly all of his clothing like he was fucking Houdini. I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing in his earnest face because it was the most desperate, weird, and shocking thing I had ever witnessed. He then tried to put the moves on me, but I was so creeped out that I, of course, didn't even want him touching me. I really just wanted him to leave, so I had to actually say to him, "I think it's really weird how you took your clothes off while my back was turned. Could you please put your clothes back on and leave?" Thankfully, he accommodated my requests and was out the door within minutes.

Needless to say, there was no date #3.


LESSONS LEARNED:

1. Don't invite someone to your place at the beginning of the date. There's still too much time for things to turn awkward, and then you'll be stuck having to figure out how to uninvite them to your place.
   
2. Don't turn your back on a creep for more than 2 seconds because he could get naked on you.
3. Don't date professors.
4. Learn how to use your fuse box so that you don't have to invite a creepy professor into your home to teach you how to turn your power back on.
   
5. It's weird for someone to talk about wanting to spank you on a second date.
6. All men are idiots, even the highly educated ones.