Clean Up on Aisle 5...

You know, not every girl is a lucky enough princess to have a date in a grocery store.

Is that Nicolas Cage?

Moving on

And like every tale of my pathetic love life I tell, this is totally true, and it's a doozy.

The Tale of Mr. Krabbynuts

I don't. I...don't..even know where to start on this one.

Dear sweet 8.5lb. baby Jeebus riding a Moped.

Once again, this is a vintage story, way back into 2011 and honestly some of the details are a wee bit fuzzy.

Or maybe the electro-shock treatments are working.
Fuck. It's a toss-up dudes.

Moving on

Mr. Krabbynuts messaged me on I don't know, let's say Match. I was at work (I know, I know, but I hated my job at the time, so the Match app was a fun diversion) when we started chatting. There are a few things I remember about Mr. Krabbynuts:

• He said that he hadn't dated anyone in quite awhile
• He said that he was really interested in finding a woman
• He said that he had a minor disability and that he sometimes had to walk with a cane.

Um... Say what?

Now, I'd be lying if I said that the last one didn't tweak my spidey senses, only because none of his pictures, even his body shots showed any indication of any kind of disability. Although I remember that in his shots he was sitting down. 

And Krabbynuts came on really strong. Strong enough that I hedged going out. There was that "Doozy's being a pussy" thing again. Took me awhile to get over that.
KN: "So, when are we getting together? Free tonight?"
Dudes. It was like a Wednesday.
Me: "Well, I can't tonight. I have to make a cake for work tomorrow." This was actually true!
KN: "That's no problem. I'll meet you at the grocery store. It'll be fun!"
I shit you not people, Krabbynuts wanted to have a first date at a grocery store. I mean, it helped that we lived in the same town, but...but..
A
Grocery
Store
For fuck sakes.

Okay, you're thinking. That's weird, but it could be worse.
Why yes. Yes it could be.
And here we go...

Because I was still I dunno spineless? Desperate? Bored? I said okay. And I remember pulling into a parking space and wanting to bang my head on my steering wheel. Seriously Doozy. I was having a date at a damn grocery store. That was only one level up (or down?) from having a hook-up on the hood of a rusted out 1989 El Camino in the parking lot of a White Castle.

And no. I've never done that. Not yet anyways. I don't think I've hit rock bottom.

But I digress

Anyhoo, I don't remember how Krabbynuts and I found each other in the parking lot, but we did..and...well..do you people remember when I mentioned that Krabbynuts said he had a "minor" disability?
Yeahhhh.
Noooo.
He didn't.

I don't quite know how Mr. Krabbynuts pulled off his photos, but he didn't look a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g like his pictures. First off, he was a good three inches shorter than me (and remember, I'm sort of a Glamazon and pretty tall for a chick), and what he said he was on his profile. Krabbynuts was also probably 120 pounds wet. 
But wait for it...
Krabbynuts had one leg that was much shorter and smaller than the other and one arm that was deformed.

Okay. I admit that this bothered me. A lot. Maybe I'm just a dick, but I just wasn't prepared for that. I didn't consider the ailment that Krabbynuts had as "minor". He had trouble walking and picking things up, and it was obvious to me within the first three minutes that Krabbynuts had an attitude about his disability. He got pissy when I tried helping him pick stuff up from low shelves that he couldn't reach because of his short arm and his balance issue. Krabbynuts was also hobbling really fast, like we were in some damn Supermarket Sweep looking for on sale lamb chops. At one point, I asked Krabbynuts if whatever was wrong with him caused him any pain and he puffed up his chest and said no, that he was just born that way, but that it didn't hurt. That was good. Even for as uncomfortable as I was, I didn't want Krabbynuts to be in pain. Clearly though, Krabbynuts was just as uncomfortable as I was. Uncomfortable and pissy.

I couldn't blame him really. It has to be hard dating in today's world with any kind of disability, no matter how minor; and it must be extremely trying if someone has a significant one.

I ended the date as quick as possible, probably twenty minutes tops. But when Krabbynuts tried to kiss me at the end of our supermarket rendezvous, that's when I was all

"I gotta go. Thanks"

Okay, okay, okay. Not one of my best moments. I admit it.

But here's where I was a dick, and I still am, I guess.
First off, don't lie about  what's wrong with you. Do your bowels explode when you eat cheese? Fine, then don't profess to love fondue.

Second, don't get pissed off if some rando you just met gets a bit freaked out by your lack of honesty and the fact that one of your arms looks like a crab leg.

Annnd I admit that my friend and I went around shouting "THE CLAW" for a week after my date with Krabbynuts.

A fucking grocery store.
Just let that marinate for awhile....


Feel free to share your bad date stories and thanks for reading.
- Doozy

One Big Exhale..Never Did Me No Good..

It's happened four times now.

Back when I first started dating, I would go off on every first date with pretty high expectations. No, really. I was an idiot. I didn't know the rules, or how dating works in the 21st Century. And I had no freaking clue how men in their 30's -middle age think..or don't think, I don't know at this point. I really was a a spaz, like this guy

But man oh man, something janky is going on recently, and it's pissing me off, not to mention that my ego is taking a hit.

The Tale of the Four Henchmen of the Apocalypse

Henchman One: Beebozore
A couple weeks ago, I was messaged by Beebozore on some site - I don't even remember now, so let's say it was PlentyofFish. Beebozore sent a nice, long, thoughtful message not just a "sup". So, we chatted back and forth on the site, and he quickly asked me out to a local suburban wine bar.
Oh why not?
Beebozore was attractive, didn't scream douchecanoe and he had a job. Besides, it was only a first date.

See, now I go into a first date like a job interview. No expectations. I wait to see how the date goes to see if this a man that I would even want to see again, and also to read how the chemistry is going to gauge if there even will be a chance at a second date.

The date with Beebozore went great. Loads of chemistry, great conversation, flirting galore. Beebozore even hinted at second and third dates. It felt good.
Then he laid a whopper of a kiss on me at the end of the date and talked of seeing each other again. Whoo hoo!

And I never heard from him again.

Beebozore just never responded to the text message I sent. The end.

Henchman Two: Wardomalthus


My date with Wardomalthus actually was the day after Beebozore. Don't judge. Sometimes I get lucky and my milkshake brings all the boys to my yard.
Damn right. It's better than yours...

Anyhoo, Wardomalthus seemed very nervous. His eye was twitching, which I somehow found kind of cute. I don't get nervous or excited about dates anymore. Something that I find kind of sad. Like, really Doozy? Am I really that cynical now that I can't even muster up any kind of "oomph" before a damn date?

But I digress

We met at a local hipster eatery which serves organic foodz and has very good huevos rancheros. The conversation was good, but we didn't have nearly the chemistry that Beebozore and I had the night before. But still, Wardomalthus was sweet, had good manners and tipped well. Besides, I don't need that instant "wham pop!" of chemistry on the first date, I just need to not feel like I'm eating with my cousin or something. I get that chemistry sometimes develops at different rates for different people. It can take time. Wardomalthus and I then took a walk around one of the lakes and that seemed to chill him out. Turned out Wardomalthus had a pretty good sense of humor under all those nerves.

And he kissed me goodbye. Gave me a really long, tight hug. And again, it felt good.

And again. Nothing. Oh Wardomalthus responded to my thank you text, then...nothing. For six days Wardomalthus was silent, until he sent me message on the site saying he'd met someone else. Hey, I gotta give him props for at least letting me know.

Henchman Three: The Moozedire

Dudes.

I was ready for this one. So fucking ready. All my guards were up, my bases were loaded and no amount of charm was getting by me this time.

The Moozedire and I had talked for quite a bit of time before we ended up going to a baseball game together. We even talked on the phone - something that is rare in the online dating world these days. The Moozedire was funny, employed and seemed like a good dad.

The night of the game, we didn't have any issues chatting it up and keeping the chemistry rolling off us in waves. He held my hand as we walked around the park. We joked in the stands, talked about our families, jobs and childhoods. The Moozedire even went so far as to talk about him needing to switch the weekends that he had his kids so that we would both be free at the same time. I kept my side-eye to myself.

At the end of the date, he laid a USDA, choice A1 kiss on me and said that we would do that again.

Ya'll see what's coming right? I can tell you're shocked...

That's right. The Moozedire disappeared into the ether of easy pussy and online porn (I imagine). Hell, I have no idea at this point.

But wait, there's more...

Henchman Four: Vulvasaur

Vulvasaur was the most recent. And he was from a new site! I know, I know...it was a moment of weakness and self flagellation that caused me to sign up for eHarmony. I don't know why, since so far I'm less than impressed with the men on there. Meh. But I'm letting my profile marinate out there, mostly because it's paid up for a couple months, and because I'm feeling lazy.

But I digress

Vulvasaur pursued me pretty hard on eHarmony, after we got through the tedious communication the site sets up. I would be lying if I said I wasn't intrigued by Vulvasaur's pursuit, especially after the three previous Henchmen. 

Okay muthafucker, I can play.

We met at an upscale bar and grill for drinks, and the first thing I noticed was that Vulvasaur was much more attractive than in his pictures. The conversation flowed well, we joked around and the three hours passed by quickly. We lived in the same city even - bonus points! He mentioned me meeting his friends, he talked a lot about his friends, and his kids.

And here's the kicker. The damn kicker.

Vulvasaur made a tentative date with me for Tuesday.

Then Vulvasaur didn't return the two texts I sent him over the weekend. The one thanking him for the date, and the one asking him about his kids soccer games.

Complete

Silence

Who the fuck does that?!

Look. I get it. It's a first date. It doesn't mean a damn thing, especially to men. But for fuck sakes, don't men understand or even think about women at ALL? I don't go into these dates with any expectations, but if a guy lays a kiss on me or ASKS ME OUT ON A SECOND DATE, I expect to at least hear from him again.

Cuz here's the thing with me, and most women I know (not all, but most), even if I really like a guy, I don't kiss him or make promises or lead him on if I'm not going to follow up on my actions.
Like a douche

Because now I'm left sitting here wondering what's wrong with ME? I'm wondering what am I doing wrong? What am I projecting? Am I too fat? Too ugly? Too weird? Spazzy? Whaaaa? How messed up is that? I'm not desperate. I don't need a man . Sure, I want one, but I don't need one. There's a big difference. My friend Oz thinks that men can pick up on the feeling that I can really take or leave a man, that I don't really "need" a man in my life and that this idea freaks them out. 

So. Men are like horses and dogs? They can smell fear and/or boredom? Fantastic.

Or. Are there really that many fickle,emotionally unavailable and broken men out there in the world?

Honestly? It's probably a combination of both. I'm tired of being disappointed, so I have thick walls up and there's no way that isn't obvious. And men these days probably want dating to be easy and their women to be like Stepford Wives or porn stars.

One big exhale never did me no good...

Thanks for reading and please feel free to leave comments!
-Doozy

Yeah, 99% My Ass

Today, on a special installment of The Doozy Chronicles...

Broken hearts.

We've all been there. 

That's the thing about hearts, they are the strongest muscle in our body, and we cannot live without them, but also the most fragile objects when they break. And almost everyone I've ever met - male or female has had their heart broken.

Oh, I had too. I'd gone through a divorce, I'd survived a really bad relationship with a really bad man; which didn't rise to the level of a broken heart but really sucked for awhile. I'd watched my son go through some serious shit and come out the other side. Bottom line, my heart isn't without it's scars.

Ho ho! But today's tale blew away any previous hurts.
Damn skippy, it's another doozy.

The Tale of Hipster Pinocchio

I met Pinocchio when I was at the tail end of a bad dating cycle - lots of bad dates and douchebags. Needless to say, when Pinocchio messaged me on OKCupid with a 99% compatibility rating, I was skeptical and less than excited about dating anyone, much less Pinocchio. But he was shy and sweet in his emails. Pinocchio didn't send me a picture of his dick and he didn't talk about sex or bj's like so many other men on that hideous site.

Don't get me wrong people. Pinocchio wasn't my type. But you know what? Fuck it, I don't have a type. But looking back, I don't know what it was about Pinocchio that I found so endearing. Pinocchio wasn't the most handsome man out there (looks aren't ever the number one qualifier for me), he was sporting a goofy soul patch when I met him, he liked craft beers and loved Mumford and Sons.
Pinocchio was...
A goddamn hipster.

Weirdly enough though, being a hipster wasn't on my deal-breaker list (still isn't. I KNOW right??), so Pinocchio and I talked for a long, long time. See, here was the deal...Pinocchio's dad had just passed away and he was out West helping his mom deal with his dad's affairs and help her move into a new place.
Much later, I discovered this should have been a flag.
But, for the first month that Pinocchio and I knew each other, we didn't meet in the flesh. We texted, we Facetimed, we talked on the phone for hours, we sent each other goofy videos from our phones.
And we were
So
Damn
Compatible
99% indeed.

I won't bore you with the minute details of our courtship, except to say that the day that Pinocchio came home, I picked him up from the airport. And it is still one of the best memories. 
Do you ever have those moments in your life when you stop and think to yourself "Hey! This could be a scene in a movie?!" That. That was the moment in time when Pinocchio and I saw each other for the first time. It was romantic, awkward, funny and sexy all at once.
It was perfect.

And it only got better from there.Our compatibility was off the charts.
You like Thai food?
ME TOO!
You like to cook?
ME TOO!
You like superheroes?
ME TOO!
Much later I would discover this should have been a flag.

Suffice to say, it didn't take me long to fall deep and hard for my own hipster; his love of craft beers aside. I felt all the way to my toes that he was "the one". I'd met his daughters and I fell in love with them too. He met my son and they were forging a friendship. All of our kids had met. We planned vacations. We talked about meeting each other parents. 
We talked about potentially moving in together.
We made plans.

You see what's coming right?

Imagine my utter shock when I arrived at Pinocchio's house for our weekly "date night" and when I walked in, something was obviously very, very wrong with Pinocchio.
Me: "Is it your mom? The girls?" Pinocchio only nodded no
Me: "What's wrong?"
Pin: "It's me. Us. This isn't working, My feelings have changed."
Me:Holy shit Doozy."What?! What's happened? Is it someone else?"
Pin: "No, no one else. I don't know, it's been feeling weird for a couple weeks.I can't explain it, but my feelings have changed. This isn't working for me anymore."

I just crumbled. Completely and utterly crumbled. I vaguely remembered Pinocchio trying to give me a hug, but I wanted nothing.
Just three days earlier after I had spent the weekend at his house as I was packing up my make-up Pinocchio suggested that I keep some of my things at his house; a toothbrush, my razor - stuff like that. It was a big step.
And then, less than a week later, Pinocchio was kicking me out of his life with seemingly no reason, no explanation short of..
"MY FEELINGS HAVE CHANGED."
Well how fucking nice for you.

I was utterly devastated.
Completely.
Totally.

My poor teenage son witnessed my meltdown that night when I got home and was unable to mask my heartbreak. He was sweet to me and furious at Pinocchio for causing me such pain. I am lucky to have such a good son. But I knew that I had to pull my shit together. I couldn't lose my cool with my life, at least not on the outside.

So, I kept it together as well as I could during the day. I'd just started a new job the week before (Yay!) and it took everything I had to mask my pain during the day and just get through work. And I worked hard to mask my pain from my son. I was the parent, he didn't need to see that crap.
But, man, at night? When I was alone?

Holy shitballs...

I was lost. The loss in those first couple weeks of not only Pinocchio but the relationship was palpable.
I didn't eat. I didn't sleep. I was a fucking wreck. And I felt like I was going crazy. My girlfriends were sweet to me; Paige took me to breakfast and let me cry over my eggs benedict, Brandee gave me the "buck up" talk over coffee, but I was still coming apart inside. And that made me feel like even more of a pussy. There I was, a strong, single, independent woman who was feeling and behaving like a histrionic twelve year old girl. 

Histrionics aren't my jam people.

The loss, the sudden, shocking absence of a love that I was SO sure of was like a writhing, snarling gargoyle sitting on my chest. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move.
How could Pinocchio do that to me? I mean come on, really dude. How could someone who days earlier told me to leave my stuff at his house suddenly, callously and with a seeming shug just push me away? Someone who up until the day before was throwing "I love you's" my way?
Like I didn't matter?

Because I was the Starter Girlfriend.
And because Pinocchio was mirroring me.

I'm totally serious here people. That's a thing,Here!

The fallout from Pinocchio caused me to trot on back to my therapist. And honestly, she's the only one who really knows what that break-up did to me and how unbelievably hard it was on me. One thing about me, I'm very good at bullshitting when I have to.

So mirroring.

Honk my damn hooter, I didn't know this existed, but it does. And with Pinocchio after many tortuous hours back in my therapy chair, I came to the conclusion that it was all

B  U  L  L  S  H  I  T 

with Pinocchio. At least where he was concerned. Because he lacked the emotional complexity to know how and what to feel on his own. Up against someone like me, who is emotionally healthy enough to know her flaws and strengths, Pinocchio didn't quite know what to do, but he knew that he liked what he saw, so he subconsciously just went with it. He mirrored me. That's why we were so compatible.
99% my ass.
So while I was out there in love-land being all authentic and shit, Pinocchio didn't know what the hell he was really feeling. Until shit got real and we got serious

Then poor Pinocchio freaked out bigtime. And lacking any sort of healthy, adult coping mechanisms he went for the nuclear option and ditched me.
Okay, it's only a theory. But it's the only one I had.

All of this psych stuff only helped me to a point. In reality, I had a lot of work to do inside. I'd been dumped before, but I'd never been dumped by "the One". And it took me a long  time before I could safely say that I didn't miss Pinocchio.

But he changed me.
That was a relationship that changed me.

You know, I've been asked (and I've asked myself) why I keep dating when I hate the process so much. And I never have an answer for it. But in drafting this, I think I've figured it out. Since Pinocchio, I want to see if lightning can strike twice. I don't miss Pinocchio anymore, I haven't for a long time now. But I miss being loved and loving someone. That was the best feeling in the world - to feel wrapped in someone's warmth and comfort. And to have had that, then have it yanked away so coldly just sucks. So, I think I've been searching to see if lightning can strike twice. Even though I know, scientifically that it doesn't.

Except for this guy:

Check this out..it's INSANE. Okay, he's the exception.

My friend Hal has asked me before if I would ever take Pinocchio back. Like, if our world was a romantic comedy and Pinocchio showed up on my doorstep begging forgiveness would I give him a second chance, since I loved him so deeply?
No.
I did love Pinocchio more than any man I'd ever known. But I couldn't ever trust him again. And trust is pretty damn important to me. Plus, you know Pinocchio proved that he's not an authentic man. And authenticity is a deal-breaker to me now. So yes, I did love Pinocchio very much. And he hurt me very much. And even though I occasionally think about us with a sort of bittersweet memory, I got over it.

Because sometimes memories just...peter out...

Thanks for reading and feel free to leave any of your own comments, about heartbreak or anything else.
-Doozy

Boy, That Escalated Quickly...

I had been out of the dating world for a loooong time when I got into online dating. And boy, was I an unprepared, stupid, newbie. I made so many mistakes, most which I will talk about in later posts. This mistake however, has to do with hypocisy, not listening to my intuition and generally being spineless. Not one of my better moments.

The Tale of Rager Wibbletits

Oh yeah. This one is a big doozy; and it happened early in my dating career, think early 2012? 

Okay, so picture this people: I had made a pact with my friend Meg that I would go on as many dates as possible because I needed the dating experience; after being out of circulation for so long and having such little mojo with the penis set. In hindsight, I totally admit that this was really stupid. I mean, I went on dates when I didn't want to, with men I wasn't into, not so I could get a free meal or anything (shit I could have my own damn courtesy Doozy Date booth at Chili's by now), but more just so I could get the experience of talking to men again. Flirting. Small talk. And buttloads of rejection. Talk about the rejection.

But I digress.

So, I forget which site I'd been on; let's say it was OkCupid... and I DO remember that I had been going on a lot of dates. I was in that shame spiral where I was vacillating between "these men are all idiots" and "what the fuck is wrong with me that these men all reject me?" kind of thinking when Rager Wibbletits messaged me.

Wibbletits only had one picture on his profile. A slightly grainy headshot of him in a John Deere ballcap.

Yellow flag number one.

Wibbletits also didn't have too much information on his profile either, except (and I DO remember this very, very clearly) that he was 5'9" and a stocky body type. Remember this people, it will be important later. Yes, there's a quiz.

Yellow flag number two.

We exchanged small talk and right away Wibbletits asked me if I was the type of girl who liked to date a lot of men. He really hounded this message. He only dated women who only dated him...

Uh. Dude.

The should have been red flag number one.

But again, remember, I was still in my stupid phase of dating and not picking up on these cues, even though talk like that made my butthole clench a bit.

Moving on.

Wibbletits and I arranged to meet at a local sports bar place that serves giant plates of nachos and has twenty five different beers on tap. Swell. I like nachos.

I really didn't have a read on what Wibbletits looked like, since I just had the one picture. I remember standing awkwardly by the front door, fumbling with my phone, searching the room for anyone that could possibly, remotely look like who Wibbletits was supposed to look like.

When the front door opened.

Um.

Oh dear.

You know how sometimes you see those commercials on TV for Subway and the meatball sammiches are all yummy looking like this?

And you're thinking, "oooh, I could get into a meatball sub from Subway! Yeah!!" But once you get one, it looks like this?

Yep.

That was Wibbletits. Total false advertising. He wasn't anywhere close to 5'9" - more like 5'6" (and I'm a pretty tall girl). And stocky? Nope. Nu-uh, No way pal. Wibbletits was...how to put this kindly? Well, you remember that John Deere hat I mentioned Wibbletits was wearing in his profile picture? He was built more like the tractor. Pulling a very wide load.

"Oh shit." I thought. I had a lot of thoughts in my head...immediately. I had an entire conversation racing through my brain as we introduced ourselves and made our way to the table. I was trying to think of a sly way to get out, and then I felt very guilty. 

Dudes.

I'm no super-model. I'm so not perfect. I'm not skinny or gorgeous or a photoshopped meatball sub. BUT, and this is a big but, I also didn't lie on my dating profiles either. And I guess underneath it all, I am the same as everyone; else - shallow, petty and...you know...I have standards. Lying being a top deal-breaker.

Moving on.

Dinner was fucking creepy too.
Wibbletits didn't eat.
I'm totally not making this up. He spent the entire meal - which I wolfed down - staring at me.

Now. Remember, this was early in my dating career, before I had developed a thick skin, the ability to not give a shit when dealing with creepers, or listening to my intuition, so I really didn't know how to deal with Wibbletits or how to get out. He talked about how much he despised women who dated other men while dating him, because = sluts. How he wanted a women who was going to commit to him right away and only date him.

And here's where my hypocrisy comes in. FUN! We had a conversation about ending a date and how there's always that awkward moment where two people are saying goodbye. And if you aren't into someone instead of saying the obligatory 
"I had a great time, we should do this again!" just say
"It was nice meeting you"
So I wouldn't expect a call back. Why lie? We aren't kids, if you aren't into me, it's cool, but men didn't need to lie as long as they were polite and civil. Wibbletits was totally on-board with that concept.

And always with the damn staring...

After I scarfed my food down and said I had to get going here's where we came full circle:

Wibbletits "Can I see you tomorrow?"
Me: "Uh" Shit, think fast Doozy "Uh...well..uh..I really can't go on more than one date during the week because of my son" (a total lie, my son was like fourteen at the time).
Wibbletits "What about lunch? You have to eat lunch right?"
Me: "Uh...um..I'll..I'll have to look at my calendar and see if I have any time"

By this point I was creeped out beyond belief, but I was too much of a pussy to just say "No" and end the date. I mean, I was getting just enough of a vibe off of Wibbletits that I wasn't sure if he would follow me home. With KY Jelly. And a hatchet.

Dude.

The straw that broke the camel's proverbial back was coming. A big, fat, crazy straw of craziness. As Wibbletits was walking me to my car, he dropped this:
"Doozy, I'm so glad you've decided to just date me."

What
The
Everloving
Fuck?

I stopped, turned to him, put my hand up and said
"Okay, this was just a first date. We just need to stop right there. I don't know what's going to happen."
"Okay, okay, okay" Wibbletits mumbled.
But I was still too much of a pussy to back out of my non-committal, sort-of-lunch date.
Needless to say, I didn't sleep that night. So, first thing in the morning, I texted Wibbletits. 
And this was our exchange:

Annnd scene.

There really isn't a quiz. But feel free to share any dating stories you have or leave comments.
-Doozy