Alright, so here goes nothing. I'm going to blog the chronicles of the ridiculous, hysterical, and occasionally tragic events that occur to me. I hope to not be one of those boring bloggers that talks about how much they love their amazing family, husband, or share a million photos from your vacation to your parents lake house. I don't care and I'm pretty sure no one else does, what I do know though is that I can find myself in some very strange situations that are almost seinfield-esque and usually my response is "this would only happen to me". Mainly because I think you only live once, and well I drink.... a lot.
Here's what you should know if you don't already.... I live in Chicago, I work at a bar, live with my OCD sister, have a really nutty family (they are a big source of strange stories), a dog that I love, and a new addition to my life.... a profile on Match.com. Yep, I did it. I swallowed my pride and got myself a 3 month membership. Took some persuasion from a friend, but I did it. I know what you're probably thinking... but you're a cute girl, why would you need to resort to meeting men online? Well it's a two-fold combination; 1. I really need to stop being tempted by a certain someone in my past with a uber-masculine scooter. 2. I work at a bar, I get hit on pretty frequently by creeps. Thus, making any attempts to get my # even outside of my place of employment is not the route I want to take.
Here's my brief list of initial qualifiers on what I'm looking for on match.com
1. Must be 6 foot or taller - I'm not giving up my heels so I can feel like an unsexy giant next to some dude my height. Sorry to you shorties out there, but for now this is not up for debate
2. Must reside within 10 miles of Chicago - I never make it out to see my family or friends in the burbs, in no immediate future will I be hiking out for dates. In theory there should be plenty of available men in the 3rd most populated city in the country for me to date. Plus, I pretty much stay from Irving to Roosevelt and from Western to the Lake.
3. Must at least like dogs - For those sissy men that were bitten when they were little and never got over it, just don't bother with me. I'll admit, my dog isn't 100% perfect and has been known to go for an ankle or two.
4. Must not drive a scooter - I swear I am a magnet for these things, I have been in contact with in some shape or form with 3 fairly large, athletic-built men in recent past who drive scooters. It is a huge turn-off, so I've added it to my list. My match profile actually includes a statement "if you drive a scooter do not contact me". Many emails sent to me inquire my hatred of scooters, and I am more than happy to share why.
This is not a laundry list of initial qualifiers, but I'm slowly learning there are some deal breakers or red flags I should really start paying attention to. Which leads me to my 2nd match date (the first one was kind of a practice one and there isn't much to say about it)
Meet emoticon man I think the name is pretty self-explanatory after you see this email I received:
"Hey there! Tri was a beast ughhhh! Waaaaay too hot :( Anyway it was still fun but glad its over, licking my wounds now at home on the couch :)Yes tomorrow night works! So where do you live again? We can pick something up your way or in between :) Im thinking a relaxing patio somewhere :) "
Wow, really 3 smiley faces and a frowny face??? I tried not to let this bother me, so I went on the date anyways. Which wasn't a bad date, it was actually kinda good. Especially when you compare it to the only other "stranger date" as I call them, a week before. BUT then emoticon man asks me, the service industry professional, "Do I have to tip on the tax?" Umm yea stupid, tip on the total bill. I already explained to you we make less than $5/hour spare the extra couple bucks and tip on the tax.
What did valuable lesson did I learn? I cannot go out with a guy who wants to get cheap when it comes to tipping.
Well, I feel I've gotten a good start on this for now. More awesome stories to come, including a flashback to last week that ends with "This isn't going to work, I'm just going to go" so you know it's a good one.
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