Give me a break, Jake (part two)

Date number two with Jake.  

So we decide to actually go and see a movie.  While I think a movie isn't always the best idea for a date, especially in the beginning of when you are dating someone, I agreed because I really wanted to see the movie.  Sad, but true.  

But he was running late (ladies, this is a red flag.  Unless there was a crazy car accident happening in front of their eyes, or they were run over by a reindeer...you should NOT be late for a date).  

Alright, so basically the minute he shows up, we need to run into the theater to see the movie.  We run up the aisle in the dark looking for seats, the theater is almost full and we are probably the last people coming in before the movie is about to start.  We see two seats open, and we just snag them.  But apparently, someone was saving a seat (there was a black sweater sitting there - we could not see it) and so we jumped out and ran to the next two seats open.  

Jake leaned over and said WAY TOO LOUDLY "are these seats open?" to an innocent bystander, and they shake their head like "no man, calm down, what the hell is wrong with you?"  

So for whatever reason, Jake just still stands there in the row of chairs blocking the view of the people behind us.  They were getting pissy, so I literally said "we need to sit down now" and shoved him into the chair.  Literally.  I grabbed his shoulders and shoved his ass into the seat.  Who gets confused about - oh should I sit in this chair?  A chair?  For a movie?  Is now the time I should be sitting down?  Wait, am I in your way, talking too loudly?

Ugh.  It was embarassing.  Everyone around us was giving us the "pfff" "psssh" "shhhhh" sounds around us until he stopped fumbling.  Eventually he shut up, after I told him "we need to not talk during the movie...."

JESUS.

During the movie... he could not stop messing with his fingers.  Rubbing his palms.  Rubbing his palms against his pants.  Messing with his glasses.  Looking at me, thinking I am not noticing.  I felt like saying "stop being a fumbling pervert and watch the god damn movie."  But instead I looked over to him, smiled, and pointed at the movie screen and turned my head back to the screen and didn't look at him again for the rest of the movie.

AFTER the movie, which was very good and I recommend everyone to see ParaNorman if you like great animated films, we walked around.

I am not kidding.  He doesn't know how to walk down a street.  People on the sidewalk were walking towards us, obviously people walk in different directions on the street.  Totally normal, a consistent part of everyday life.  Not for him.  He was acting like it was a game of Frogger.  Dodging people.  Hiding behind lampposts, mailboxes, and then just jumping behind a parked car.  He had no rhythm.  He needs some coaching.  For reals.  And last but not least, he runs into a sign.  Dead on.  Right in the center.  It was a construction sign.  I asked "did you just bump into that?"  His reply "yeah, whoops."  I asked "did you not see it?"  His reply "I saw it, but I couldn't get out of the way."  

He saw it clearly with yards still in front of him.  At this point with the volume issues, fumbling, social awkward nuances, and not being able to be OK with physical space...I thought he has to be some form of autistic.

While I have done my research and talked to several people about his "symptoms" it was very clear to me that he most likely has Asperger's.

And while he is a nice guy, I cannot take care of someone like that.  I've dated someone who was depressed with OCD tendencies, and that was a challenge.  I knew that this wasn't for me, and I cannot train and coach someone.  I want someone who can be OK with himself, and doesn't need "training."  

So c'est la vie.  I told him that I only saw him as a friend, and he said OK.  That was the end of Jake.  

Give me a break, Jake (part one)

Hey y'all.

Sorry for not writing sooner.  I think I need to make this at least a once a week type of thing.  And also, while dating stories are fun to write, there's more to life than writing about cray cray cavemen that live in California.  

But since I am many stories behind, I do owe you some more dating stories.  Here we go.

In my dating online endeavors, I met a guy named Jake.  We had been messaging each other for a few weeks, but he never made a move.  While he was funny in script, and while he had a chance to edit himself, he never asked "when can we meet up" or "can we chat on the phone?"  Now, I gave him a little credit, because he is a professional writer.  But enough is enough.  

So I asked him, Jake are we now penpals, or would you like to meet in person?  He replied something to the effect of: I like to get to know someone a little more before meeting up in person.  Well....I come from the perspective of meet-the-dang-human-in-person-and-see-what-you-think.  Why should I waste my time?  

Being sick of men calling the shots, especially when the shots they call SUCK I asked him for his phone number and suggested that we talk on the phone before we meet in person.  We then agreed on a time where we were both free to chat.

The conversation actually went pretty well, and he was a chatty fellow.  Asked a lot about my job and family, we both shared some stories about friends, yada yada.  So at the end, we decide to throw in the towel and set up a date.  He suggested this Italian restaurant not so far away, and I was looking forward to it.

I have been advised by my girlfriends to always dress it up a bit more for dates, casual-chic if you will.  Well, really wanting to blow it out of the water, I wore this black dress about down to my knees, and heels along with a black sweater.  Hair straightened, lipstick on.  I thought I looked pretty good, if I do say so myself.  Well, when I rolled up to the front of the restaurant this is what I saw:  cotton-material weird-green-colored button down shirt, awkwardly tucked in to his too-short-hemmed slacks with his socks and shoes not going with his outfit.  Now I try not to care tooooo much about what men wear, especially since who they are matters 100% more.  But if you can't get it together for a first date, it makes me worry a little bit of what you wear normally.  

He also wore glasses (something that wasn't advertised on his profile), he was also 2 inches shorter than he said, and there was just something... I don't know.  I couldn't put my finger on it.  He was physically awkward.  And to make it worse, when I waved hello to him while I was walking up to the restaurant, he gawked at me like I was Angelina Jolie/Jennifer Aniston/insert some hot celebrity here.  And I am not a hottie mchottster like those two ladies are.  Nobody is!  

So he was clearly attracted to me, and for me...not so much as far as physical attraction goes.  So I try to scale the conversation back and not be flirty at all.  I just tried to treat it as two friends who decided to get dinner.

As we are seated, the waiter says "bonna serra" and I return the sentiment.  Meanwhile Jake interjects an awkward nasal-sounding "hello" here and there.  He had no fun talking to the waiters in Italian.  At all.  It was a bit weird.  He ended up getting a salad with his dinner, and he looked like a 4 year old struggling with how to hold a fork.  He stuck a whole piece of romaine horizontally in his mouth, shoving it in his mouth with a taco.  Did he really have to do that?  Couldn't he have cut it in a small piece like a normal person who knows how to use a fork and knife?

On the table over the fabric tablecloth, there was a paper tablecloth.  Well he couldn't resist fussing and messing and crumpling and twisting that thing around his fingers.  It was really annoying.  I figured he was so nervous.  He also kept tensing his shoulders and leaning a bit to one side.  I was wondering what the heck is up with his back?  Is his chair not comfortable?  CALM DOWN!  

He also had some volume issues.  Spoke either way too loudly or not loud enough at all.  Random social nuances seemed to escape him.  It was weird.  He also dropped his knife and acted like a bomb had grenade had landed at his foot.  I casually handed him my knife telling him I didn't need it.

Finally dinner ended, no dessert thank god.  When we are walking outside, he said that he's catching the train home and I pointed out that my car was in the other direction.  I figured he would at least go in for a hug at the end of the night.  Well.  It was the most awkward goodbye in the world.  He saw that I was thinking about a hug, but he shook out his hand, then I put out my hand, then he went in for a hug, then I went in for a one-armed hug, then he backed away......soooo bad.  Finally I pulled him in for a hug, said "night" and walked in the other direction without looking back.

He called me the next day saying he had a good time, and that he would like to see me again.  Well, he was a very nice guy but he had some odd things going on, clearly.  But because he was a gentlemen and showed me a good time I guess, I thought "nice guys shouldn't finish last" and I agreed to go on a second date with him.  I also felt bad for being maybe too harsh too soon, and that I can't diss him for dropping a knife in a weird manner.  While I agreed to see him, I was still very hesitant.

To be continued.

The Dividing Line, part two

Where did I leave off?  Part 1 - Quick recap.

Date with Frank.  Met at wine bar.  He doesn't drink, in AA.  Had flirty eyes back and forth.  Decide to ride his motorcycle to nearby museum.  Hold hands.  Walk around.  Kissy kissy time in the park, and not caring if children are nearby.  Decide it's time to call it a night.  Gives me a ride back to my car.  Kiss goodnight.  Franks asks me out for a date asap.  I tell him I'm free Friday.  He says cool  Au revoir.

The Diving Line, Part 2 

Frank and I had been texting throughout the week saying how nice it was to meet each other, and that we are looking forward to Friday yada yada yada.  How are you?  How's work?  Things like that.  On Thursday he texted me asking what time I was off of work.  I said 6pm.  He said that he would pick me up near my work, and that he would take me out for a surprise.  He also texted:  "what's your favorite flower?  And I am asking this for no particular reason...  ;)"  So in MY mind, I think holy jesus I am getting flowers.  I hardly ever get flowers, woo!  

Think again, mon amie.

I then hear from him on Friday, asking me if I could pick him up from his place and then we will ride over together.  Kind of annoyed by this (solely because he was supposed to pick me up, like he said)....I decided to just brush it off as "whatever" and go with the flow.  While I am sitting in traffic getting to his place, I had to wait for his ass for 20 minutes because "he needed to shower and get some things together."  Really, Frank?  Really?  Not only does he come out 25 minutes late, but no flowers, and now I am apparently the chaperone for the evening.

He basically plays the role of TomTom or mapquest, telling me which way to turn.  Apparently the "surprise" was going to the beach.  Which was fine....but I was expecting maybe dinner?  Snacks?  Something food related because by this time it's nearing 8pm and I didn't eat dinner and I am HUNGRY.  And what happens when girls are starving?  Crankiness.  Crankiness up the ass, to where you just want to give us reese's pieces and call this place adieu.  We are like bears who hasn't caught a delicious srumdiddlyumptious trout in four days.  It's not a good scenario.

So while my tummy is rumbling and bumbling....I park the car, and we walk down the literal 100 steps to the beach.  When we finally arrive to the beach, there is this small inlet where the ocean is coming toward the shore, but it's in a very narrow skinny line.  It just struck me and I stopped to look at it, since the water wasn't overflowing on either side.  Frank notices me looking at the inlet and says "this is the dividing line."  And I said "what do you mean?  Is it more dangerous on this side?"  He said "No."  

Not really getting an answer, I decide to veer left, and he says "no, we are going this way."  So I correctly steer myself to the right, and I am not thinking much of that.

Boy was I in for it...

We decide to park ourselves on some "comfy" rocks.  This really means, rocks that aren't poking you on the ass as much, and it's quasi-flat.  So we are cuddling up on the rocks talking about the sunset and the birds and enjoying our outdoor space, and before I know it we are making out again.  And in the meantime, he starts unbuckling his pants.

Now call me crazy, but I did not see that coming.  So I asked "what are you doing?"  He replies a question with a question:  "Can I see you in your birthday suit?"

(now mind you, my birthday had just passed.... this "date" was supposed to be a birthday present....)

I quickly reply with an awkward 

SG:  "haha...but no" and then I said, thinking that this would definitely shoot him down "Plus, it wouldn't be happening here on this rock," to which he replies 

Frank:  "Well, I share a room with someone and we aren't allowed to have overnight guests, and I am used to have sex outdoors.  Also, I don't wear condoms.  I can't get off wearing them."  

At this point I am feeling that I really need an adult, and I am looking around the beach praying to lord baby jesus that there is a cop, a bum, or even a pelican at this point to help relieve me from this torture. 

So instead of feeling tortured, I decide to torture him back.  

SarcasticalGirl:  "You can't get off wearing condoms?  Why?  Well, I guess it doesn't matter...if I am with someone, I require the guy to wear one."

Frank:  "Aren't you on birth control?"

SG:  "Ever heard of STDs?"

Frank:  "Well I am clean..."

SG:  "Well, I would need proof of that too."

Frank:  "Well I don't wear condoms, so I guess you will have to make a decision about whether or not you can have sex with me."

SG:  "What did you mean when you said 'the dividing line?'"

Frank:  "Oh, the left side of the beach is normal, and this side of the beach is clothing optional."

He brought me to a nude beach?!  I could have killed him.

While he's saying this he is putting his pants back on (thank god) and I start running for the 100 steps back up to where my car is.  I have to give the poor a**hole a ride home, we carpooled and even though he is legitimately wrong and stupid, I cannot maroon him on the beach at 10pm in pitch dark with no ride home about 40 minutes away.

So I give Frank a ride home and he gives me a kiss on the cheek and says "call me when you're ready."

I deleted his phone number the minute he walked to is front door.  

Good god, please help the men in California...

The Dividing Line, part one

So this took place about a month ago, and honestly I still look back and get a little pissed, but I still chuckle about the tools that are among norcal...

OK.  So I am currently doing the online dating thing.  I met a man named Frank.  Frank and I had talked for a bit and the conversation was good, so he ended up asking me out for a drink one night after work and I agreed.

We met at a cute and dimly lit wine bar, and the conversation was good.  He asked what I wanted to drink, so I told him a glass of red as long as it's not merlot (little bit of a wine snob thanks to my ex).  He came back to the table with red wine for me, and a carbonated fruit drink for himself.  So I asked, "you didn't want wine?"  And he said "No, I just wanted this."

Honestly, I thought it was a little weird but I didn't put two and two together.  Now looking back, it's obvious.  He doesn't drink...

He then decides to 'fess up to why he doesn't have wine, and he says he used to be an alcoholic, but goes to AA now and goes three times a week.  Been sober for over a year and it's been going really well.  He then says he understands if I don't want to get involved with him, and I pretty much tell him exactly the truth.  That I care that he has it in control, and as long as he keeps going to meetings that I am good on my end.  So then he nods and rubs my shoulder, and we move on to a new subject.  

So we are talking and blah blah blah good conversation.  Flirty talk and flirty eyes.  A little bit of touching here and there.  All pretty innocent, but it's clear we are attracted to each other.  So after talking there for about an hour or so, he asks "want to go to the museum?"  And I reply "it's still open?"  I knew it was about 10pm, and yet I still decide to ask.  

HELLO SARCASTICAL GIRL!  WHAT MUSEUM IS OPEN AT 10PM?!  Get a damn grip...

He clearly says "No...but we can still go there and walk around.  It's beautiful at night."  I say "That sounds like a great idea." 

So he has an extra helmet for me, and we ride off on his motorcycle.  He gives me the three rules a passenger must abide by:
1.  Don't EVER put your feet down, until he's parking or tells you to get the eff off the bike.
2.  Don't EVER put your hands on the throttle, gas or anything on the handle bars.
3.  Turn your head to the side to make it more comfy, and hang on tight but don't kill his ribs.

So of course I agree.  HOTNESS!  Hot guy on a bike in a leather jacket?!  Done and done.

So while I get to ride on his bike / give him a hug, and get a chance to check out his abs without being a creeper, we are having a good time.  We drive through the urban city and check out all the hills and streets and see the beauty of an empty city and night with all the lights on.  It was truly beautiful.  

We get to the museum and walk around the park.  Before I know it we are walking around holding hands having a good time, chatting, people watching, and before I know it I am pressed up against a tree and he is making out with me like there's no tomorrow.  His body language said it all.  He then grabbed my legs, wrapped them around him and I swear if I had given him the green light, he would have had sex with me right there, in the middle of the museum grounds, next to the pond with the swans in it.  With probably a drug dealer 10 feet away...

So I remind him I have work early the next morning, and he respectfully lets me go, gives me a kiss, holds my hand while we walk back to his bike, and he gives me a ride to my car.  We say goodbye, kiss a little more, and he asks "When can I see you again?" and I reply "When are you going to ask me out again?"  (which I have to admit, is the best reply in the world)

He then gives a goofy grin and asks if he can see me tomorrow, and I said I had plans, but that I was free on Friday.  He says okay, reserve me that night, and I tell him no problem.  

I was very enthusiastic about this date.  He was nice, honest, and was an amazing kisser and I am sorry I was a bit sold on the motorcycle hotness of him.  

I was impressed until the minute our second date started...

end of part one...

psycho-stripper

So in my quest to put myself out there and meet single men, I have joined OkCupid.  No shame.  Whatever.  I work all the time.  I am around mostly women.  Either the men in my life are just friends, married, taken, co-workers or bosses in which all of the above are inappropriate.  So I need to put myself out there to meet eligible gentlemen.

Well, the words "eligible" and "gentlemen" hardly describe the male-species I am about to explain.

I had emailed with this dude who seemed pretty nice and conversational.  In fact, he called me before our date, which I appreciated.  It definitely eased the tension of meeting a total stranger in person, if you had already talked to the person on the phone.

So all was good in my book, I was willing to meet this guy, let's call him Joe.

Well  Joe was a G.D. liar...

Joe's pictures online were modest.  He was attractive, but not like a model, which I prefer.  A normal real person, please?

So it's the day of the date, and I see him waiting for me outside.  In person, this dude was about 50 pounds heavier than the pictures online.  He also was wearing glasses in his pictures, and none were to be found in person.

So I see him and think "wow, he's such a liar."  Ok.  Sorry.  Ladies and gents, I am sure we try to pick the most flattering pictures of ourselves with good lighting, your favorite shirt, makeup on and hair done, etc.  Things like that are normal.  But weight is a serious thing.  I am all about people doing whatever makes them happy.  But you shouldn't put yourself out there looking completely different than you do currently.  It's false advertising!  I recently switched up pictures because I wanted them to be the most current as possible, so nobody could accuse me of false advertising.

But not wanting to be a total (GDB - Community reference) I see him waiting for me outside the park where we decided to meet up, and to just suck it up and go with it.  Maybe we can be friends.  We are walking in the park starting to spark the conversation a bit, and here's how it went:

Joe:  Can you stand on this side of me?
(long pause....)
Me:  Umm... is this side not very good for youuuu?
Joe:   Well, I have a crick in my neck and it's hard to turn my neck this way.
Me:  Oh, ok.  (I then shift to his left side)  What did you do to your neck?
Joe:  Well, this morning my phone rang and I reached over to get it when I was in bed this morning, and it made a loud pop sound, and now it hurts.
Me:  Well that's lame you should call the person back, telling them it's their fault your neck hurts.
(small laughter, only coming from me.  long pause....)  Well, who called you so early in the morning?
Joe:  Oh, it was my mom.

And I am sorry.  Don't bring up your MOTHER in the first few minutes of our conversation.

Me:  Oh, are you a mama's boy?  (clearly a joke)
Joe:  Yeah I would say I am a mama's boy.  She's the first person I talk to in the morning, and the last person I talk to before I go to bed.

MOMMY COMPLEX.  RUN AWAY.  RUN AWAY.  RED FLAG RED FLAG!  OR WHITE FLAG - TIME TO SURRENDER!  EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!

What actually comes out of my mouth is "Oh."

I don't remember what was said next, but we eventually get to a particularly sunny side of the park, and he asks if I want to sit down.  He had brought a blanket and wine and decided to set up camp.  I told him I wasn't too much of a drinker, but that I would have a little.  A little literally meant maybe an inch or two of wine in a plastic red cup he brought.  (college party tricks much?)

So being the observer that I am, I also see in his timbuktu messenger bag, a razor, a candle, the blanket and wine, cups, a toothbrush and some clothes.  Next thing that goes through my head is that, THIS GUY LIVES IN THE GD PARK.  Or...he lives in his car.  And why the candle?  


So now at this point, he's shaking out the blanket and laying it down on the grass, pouring us wine.  Mind you, like I said, I had an inch or two of red wine.  He had the rest of the GD bottle.  Uhhhh what?

Then he starts taking off his shoes, socks, TOOK OFF HIS SHIRT, and then laid down on the blanket.

Joe:  Why don't you join me here?  (Showing his armpit area as a nice place to come over...)


I DON'T THINK SO JACKASS.  YOU PROBABLY SMELL LIKE STINKY BODY SPRAY.  

Me:  I'm good over here.  I think I'm good over here.

Mind you he has graying chest hair, and his belly is billowing over his pants.  Oh yeah, and his calvin klein tight underwear is sticking out as well.  Nice.  


Time finally passes, and he decides to put his clothes back on and we start heading towards the exit.  He then asks me if I have ever been close to getting married.  And that took me way off guard.   But I decide to be honest.

Me:  Well, I was given a ring and there was a proposal but there was no engagement.  And I've never been married.

Joe:  Oh, so you're afraid of commitment.

Me:  No...it just didn't work out.  He wasn't a good guy in the end.

Joe:  Oh, so you tend to date the wrong guys then...

Well you have a point there, Joe.  Look at you!  You live out of a timbuktu bag and have a mommy complex, you strip in public, you drank a bottle of wine half naked in front of children.  You're right - I do date the wrong guys.  But thank god, I only spent 45 minutes with you, you pycho-stripper.


Me:  You know what, I am going to go.

Joe:  You want a ride home?

Me:   No, I'm good.  I would rather walk.

HOLY HELL.

One less clown in Boston

Let's get this straight.  I have pretty awesome friends.  You know the type of friends, who make you more hyper?  More crazy?  (wait, is that possible for me?  errrr...yes.  It is)  More... well anything in this case?

Well, my beloved brother-from-another-mother and Juliekins make me feel as such.

Recently I went to Boston, not only to DUH visit Boston, but to also visit them.  There were many sights to see and things to do, but I insisted on going to this Italian restaurant that about 6 people, who don't know each other, referred to me.  This place was called Giacomo's.  Legit place for realses.  We had the best butternut squash ravioli.  Some homemade fusili.  Some free garlic bread that was the bees-knees.  Literally this place was so good, that you have to wait outside in line for dinner starting as early as 4pm.  No reservations type of place, if you catch my drift.

Anywho dinner was so delicious and I was just feeling so happy to be away, with friends, eating amazing food, and seeing the world.

Then, oh yeah, it's time for my "Slims-is-crazy" moment (which is probably every 3 minutes) and things just tend to come out of my mouth unfiltered.  Sometimes I don't realize how whackadoo I sound, until a dear friend is standing next to me and says "what did you just say?!".  And in this case, Brozef and Juliekins were around to here it.  

We were walking down some cute brick-lined street in Boston, and I saw the saddest sight.  A broken, smushed, colorful-but-broken looking ice cream cone.  The saddest sight in the world I tell you.

See?  Doesn't that make you go "awww" from the heart?  Well, if it doesn't...then it should. 

My inner monologue then becomes my outside-voice and I say, pointing to the sad, smushed twisty cone...

"Sad!  That's sad.  A clown died there."

It was true.

The end.

The day I was outed in Barnes and Nobles

Sometimes I wonder how these things happen to me.  And I of course have no GOOD answer.  But here is a recent and true tale that has happened to me.  I had just finished watching "Moonrise Kingdom" with a friend at a local movie theater, and decided to hang out at the Barnes and Nobles cafe and read for a bit before saying goodbye.  While my friend stepped away to go to the restroom, I got bombarded with this:




Woman:  "Excuse me.  My English isn't very good.  It's not very good.  I need help.  Help to write a note for a friend.  Can you help me?"
Me:  "Um...  sure.  I'll help."
Woman:  "Thank you, thank you.  My English isn't good, and I need help finishing a note to my girlfriend."
--Now, when the woman mentioned "girlfriend" I literally thought she mean a girl that is her friend.  I did not think that she literally meant her significant other type of girlfriend...  DUMB ASS ASSUMPTION!  I now internally realize, while walking over to her table that this "note" means a full on five page letter, and that this "note" is being written on her laptop...  Holy frizzle.  Let's continue...
Me:  "What do you need help saying?"
Woman:  "Well, my girlfriend is mad at me, and she says she cannot continue being my girlfriend with my lifestyle.  Because.  Because.  Because.  Because.  Because.  Because....I have psychological problems and she doesn't want to deal with me anymore."
--HOLY FRIZZLE
Me:  "Oooohhh.  Well, do you need help with a particular sentence?"
--I also notice that she's wearing a Kaiser Permanente sweatshirt with the word, Volunteer underneath it.  I start wondering how often she goes to Kaiser Permanente...
Woman:  "Well, she won't let me  let me  let me  let me  let me  let me.  She won't let me stay at her house anymore.  And she says she will not take me to this House Concert.  But I don't care about concert.  I care about about about about about.  About seeing her."
--While I am reading what she has in her letter, which is full of apologies and reminding her girlfriend that she will get therapy and drugs for her psychological problems, her English is in fact not that bad.  She writes English heck of a lot better than she speaks English...
Me:  "Well, what you have so far sounds pretty good..."
Woman:  "Have you ever broken up with a girlfriend?"
Me:  "Um.. well, I have had a girl in my life that I was close with and now we don't talk anymore."
--NOW the lady starts rubbing my tricep...
Woman:  "I'm so sorry sorry sorry. It's hard breaking up with a girlfriend."
--Now her voice raises ten octaves...
Woman:  "HOW LONG DID YOU GO OUT WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND?"
--Holy frizzle.  This is why I regret not correcting this lady before.  When I said "girlfriend", I of course meant girl friend, not girlfriend.  But now since she might go bat-shit cray cray on me, I feel that it's better for me to be homosexual than to prolong this conversation.
In the mean time, every single person within a gooood radius of B&N has now whipped their head around and is staring at me and my new friend...
Me:  "Um...  we were together for three years.  But I haven't talked to her in a year."
Woman:  (still with the ultra high and loud voice)  "WELL BREAK-UPS ARE HARD, BUT AT LEAST YOU'RE A A A A A A A A A LESSSSSBIAANNN WITHOUT PSYCHOLOGICAL PROBLEMS!!!"
She is still rubbing my tricep...
Me:  "Yeah.....your letter looks great.  I'll see you later!"
--I start speed walking in the opposite direction, towards the escalator.  I then see my friend standing nearby.
My friend:  "Who was that?"
Me:  "A lesbian who made me a lesbian.  She needed help with a letter."
My friend: "WHATTT?"
Me:  "I'll explain when we are out of this joint..."




classic and completely true.