Lies! Okay not lies… but misnomers or frustrations er something. So i have this new smart phone and I’m texting my dude-that-i-see, we’ll call him Rufus because it’s so redic that it fits… anywho I’m texting Rufus and trying to be cute-funny-witty-amazing-fall-in-love-with-me-via-text, right…so the texts go something like this:Mr. R: Well it’s past your bed time so you should be getting to bedMoi: crawling into bed right nowMr. R: that’s awkward, you shouldn’t crawl into bed…Moi: I more hopped (literally I did hop into bed)Mr. R: Equally weird. Lay down in it!Moi:
Shoot me… just put me out of my ever loving misery now. Just call me McTard Kit. ugh! This isn’t a big deal, it’s not. But what you don’t know is my amazing track record of boyfriends… let’s take a quick track record of those shall we?
So as you can see… the chances of them being straight 100% right now… are 3 out of 6… for people who hate math, like me apparently… that’s 50%! My gaydar is broke-argh (that is the sound a frustrated pirate makes I assume)
Side note, moms of boyfriends aside from #4’s mom b/c she had known me my entire life… they do-not-even-a-little-bit like me. Not sure what that’s about… but I met Rufus’s mom for the first time before we were even dating-ish or whatever we’re doing… and it was playing ping pong at his parents house… odd I know… so I’m not really paying attention, and apparently they think each game in their back patio might just be the qualifying match to get them into the Olympics… I kid you not, when we arrived to hang out and casually play ping pong -that’s what was happening in my head anyway… his mom actually changed into tennis shoes… LIKE IT MATTERED … so Rufus and I are playing and I’m being lackadaisical and just happily hitting back and forth, back and forth… when his mom chimes in that it’s his turn to serve… So no biggie, I pass it to him… BUT THEN she starts to explain why it’s his turn… “You see you have 3 points and he has 7, and 3+7=10.” OH REALLY?!? immediately Rufus joking-seriously says, “way to talk down to her mom”… and I immediately feel like I’m 9yrs old… waiting to go into the math Olympics, -yes really i did that, palms start sweating and I feel like a quiz is about to start…. fortunately we all laugh it off… but to this day we both pull the 3+7 is 10 YOU-TARD-CARD. good times.
I feel like this might be the perfect time to jump back a year or so and tell you the tail of the bunny-hot guy. -don’t worry that’ll (not a word) make sense… I didn’t mistake a bunny for a hot man.
MMMk here we go.
Setting the stage:: I’m getting out of my car disheveled as cuss, holding the weeks worth of heels, flip flops to wear when I got sick of the heels, cardigans b/c even though I live in the center of hell someone everyone feels the need to crank the AC to negative 10 degrees -mmk, I might slightly be exaggerating… whatever.
So here I am, hair in a messy bun on top of my head…and not in a sexy just rolled out of bed way… no, that would have been too awesome. It was more in a I just out-ran a train and look like hell times 6… I’ve only got maybe 100 ft to my front door…so no big deal, right? WRONG!
Into the picture Hot guy walks, as if an angel appearing from nowhere, he just saunters up like all hot guys do, you know… casual, cocky, bronzed, not wearing a shirt
for realz … ah… and HE’S LOOKING RIGHT AT ME!… I totally forgot what a total mess I am at the present moment… and decide to turn on the charm.
This is where I would have been better to shoot myself in the foot and hope for sympathy, and some bonding to the hospital… maybe a funny story later we’d be married and be able to tell everyone we met through a gun misfire at our wedding… -sigh… THAT DIDN’T HAPPEN… NO, what happened was… I frantically searched for something to talk about… anything!… so I peruse the lands and see something worth talking about… he’s glowing-bronzed-hot-perfect-smiling-face is looking at me… and I manage to get one hand free… when I turn like an awkward ballerina atop of a music box… you know the type all stiff and discombobulated with barbie non moving hands… I turn and say like a monotone robot “have you ever seen a bunny on a leash?” Hot guys smile fades… he looks at me like I might have escaped from the loony bin… and he quickly walks by.
Mur, I walk inside and see myself and the disaster that is me…and give myself a quick-mc liar boots- of-a-pep-talk… and say, I’ve still got it.
Ya, I don’t wonder why I’m single :) I have concrete evidence of singledom hanging over my every tardacious interaction with gorgeous men.
I’m so smooth… NOT