The Christmas season is upon us. Due to global financial crisis hitting all corners of the globe now, people maybe finding it harder to give in this season of giving. Take this story as an example:
I am writing this on behalf of a friend of mine who recently had the unpleasant experience of meeting a guy named [bleep] from America. They met via an online ad my friend had placed ( I have advised her stop placing ads as she becomes a target when she does) I realize that I only have half the story, but as an American I feel bad that this girl was cheated and lied to by another American.
This guy met this girl and they emailed back and forth for a few weeks. Then he asked her to dinner,ordered a lot to eat and then proceeded to eat most of the food. He then excused himself to the restroom where he leaves the Chinese girl with the bill. He is from New Jersey I believe, and in his mid 20’s. He claims to be a wealthy consultant in the hotel industry. I have his pic, name, and contact information for anyone that might be interested.
An asshole coming from New Jersey. What are the odds?
Showing posts with label expat men. Show all posts
Showing posts with label expat men. Show all posts
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Reader Submission: The Play Gay
If TV has taught us nothing else it's that the best gal pal is a gay pal. Other than roofies, nothing will make the modern girl drop her defenses faster than a sassy, sashaying man. But what happens when a guy you meet is just pretending?
READER SUBMISSION
A friend of ours has been known to tell girls that he's gay while out at a bar. After he's gained their trust he baits girls by telling them that if they let him squeeze their breasts he can tell if they've been ahem... enhanced. When they look aghast the assures them with this line, "It's totally okay, I'm gay. I won't even be turned on. I'm actually grossed out by breasts." Wierd part is is that it actually has worked more than a few times.
And you thought this only happened in C-list movies. Caveat emptor ladies.
READER SUBMISSION
A friend of ours has been known to tell girls that he's gay while out at a bar. After he's gained their trust he baits girls by telling them that if they let him squeeze their breasts he can tell if they've been ahem... enhanced. When they look aghast the assures them with this line, "It's totally okay, I'm gay. I won't even be turned on. I'm actually grossed out by breasts." Wierd part is is that it actually has worked more than a few times.
And you thought this only happened in C-list movies. Caveat emptor ladies.
The One Man Mind Fuck
It was our fourth date and things were going swimmingly. Dinner on the first date, hiking on the second, hutong biking on the third... Our fourth date involved a lot of vodka. As he nuzzled my neck in a drunken haze, he whispered "God, I love you. I really do." Having consumed significantly less than my love struck partner, I didn't respond with any tipsy confessions of my own. I was also sober enough to recognize his outburst as having far more to do with the potent, clear liquid in his martini glass than true feelings. I mean, c'mon, it was our fourth date! I figure, if he meant it, well, that's a little scary so soon, but I can deal with it. If he didn't, well, people have said stranger things under the influence and if that was all it was, then, well, frankly it would be a relief.
When I spoke to him the next day, he had driven himself into a frenzy over what he had said. "I don't love you! Really, I don't! Oh my god, how could I have said that? I'm not the type who says that! I don't love you! I didn't say it! Oh god!" For all my shhhhhhing and reassurances that I wasn't taking it too seriously nor was I expecting a diamond ring on our next date, he could not be calmed. "I can't deal with this. It's moving too fast!" he exclaimed emphatically. And then he just stopped calling. The man drove himself into a crazed tizzy while all I could do was sit on the sidelines, blinking in confusion.
A friend later commented spot on: "He mind-fucked himself."
When I spoke to him the next day, he had driven himself into a frenzy over what he had said. "I don't love you! Really, I don't! Oh my god, how could I have said that? I'm not the type who says that! I don't love you! I didn't say it! Oh god!" For all my shhhhhhing and reassurances that I wasn't taking it too seriously nor was I expecting a diamond ring on our next date, he could not be calmed. "I can't deal with this. It's moving too fast!" he exclaimed emphatically. And then he just stopped calling. The man drove himself into a crazed tizzy while all I could do was sit on the sidelines, blinking in confusion.
A friend later commented spot on: "He mind-fucked himself."
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Charisma Man
Charisma Man is a comic strip originally created back in '98 as a satirical take on the overconfidence of expat English teachers in Japan; however, I'm sure many of us in China can relate to these themes ten years later.
hello upper east siders. it's china dirt. xoxo!
Mmm winter. The leaves have died, the winds are gusting and skies are bleak. Sorry for the long hiatus readers. This year, China Dirt makes its New Years resolution a month early – aside from obsessing over the latest Blair and Chuck love arc we also pledge to, oh yes, update more.
Like a good errant boyfriend who displays his contrition with a bouquet of flowers and sad, doleful eyes, we’re going to give you an apology present as well - clue as to who we might be (or at least what we look like). After numerous emails, countless comments and a few gchat pop ups hypothesizing who we might be (the aggregated conclusion came out to be white, heavy set and fugly) we’ll give you this hint – and only really because it’s relevant for how the following story will read – one of us is (hold your breath guys) a full blooded foreign born Chinese. Onto the first story of the new year: “You don’t know English as well as me.”
So our fellow FBC was out one night at a rather swank cocktail party. Despite dressing up and having somewhere to go she unfortunately found herself backed into the corner by a charmless Karl Lagerfeld doppelganger – Note: fat, creepy Karl, not svelte, hipster Karl.
“Wow, you’re English eez good.” slurred the unhandsome stranger, blasting his hot, sour, cranberry laced breath into her face – oh yes, he was standing that close.
“I’m from abroad,” she replied.
“You are foreign? No! You look Chinese! You are Chinese. Vat do you do?” he spat out incredulously.
“Genetics tends to do that” she said looking for an escape, “I’m a brand strategist.”
“Zat is not a real word. You must be confused. You are not foreign,” he said triumphantly.
The rest of this gem of a conversation doesn’t really warrant being recorded. Let’s just end on that the crowd was luckily big enough for our FBC contributor to melt mercifully into avoiding rotund Karl for the rest of the evening.
Like a good errant boyfriend who displays his contrition with a bouquet of flowers and sad, doleful eyes, we’re going to give you an apology present as well - clue as to who we might be (or at least what we look like). After numerous emails, countless comments and a few gchat pop ups hypothesizing who we might be (the aggregated conclusion came out to be white, heavy set and fugly) we’ll give you this hint – and only really because it’s relevant for how the following story will read – one of us is (hold your breath guys) a full blooded foreign born Chinese. Onto the first story of the new year: “You don’t know English as well as me.”
So our fellow FBC was out one night at a rather swank cocktail party. Despite dressing up and having somewhere to go she unfortunately found herself backed into the corner by a charmless Karl Lagerfeld doppelganger – Note: fat, creepy Karl, not svelte, hipster Karl.
“Wow, you’re English eez good.” slurred the unhandsome stranger, blasting his hot, sour, cranberry laced breath into her face – oh yes, he was standing that close.
“I’m from abroad,” she replied.
“You are foreign? No! You look Chinese! You are Chinese. Vat do you do?” he spat out incredulously.
“Genetics tends to do that” she said looking for an escape, “I’m a brand strategist.”
“Zat is not a real word. You must be confused. You are not foreign,” he said triumphantly.
The rest of this gem of a conversation doesn’t really warrant being recorded. Let’s just end on that the crowd was luckily big enough for our FBC contributor to melt mercifully into avoiding rotund Karl for the rest of the evening.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Sabbatical
Hello All,
As you all may have noticed the China Dirt girls have taken quite a long hiatus. 6 months to be exact. Apologies for the fans for the radio silence but we've unfortunately gotten rather intense jobs that suck up our time, rendering our free time rather scarce. New jobs = Less free time + more travel = less going out in China = less chances to encounter male douchbaggery in China. So is China Dirt dead? Well, we still have a stock of unwritten tales of male misdeeds. It just takes us a bit to write them down so please be patient and check back every month or so for (hopefully) a new update.
As a side note, apparently, there's a real estate agency in China also named China Dirt. Just goes to show you - you're never as unique as you think you are.
Happy dating. Will update soon!
-CD girls
As you all may have noticed the China Dirt girls have taken quite a long hiatus. 6 months to be exact. Apologies for the fans for the radio silence but we've unfortunately gotten rather intense jobs that suck up our time, rendering our free time rather scarce. New jobs = Less free time + more travel = less going out in China = less chances to encounter male douchbaggery in China. So is China Dirt dead? Well, we still have a stock of unwritten tales of male misdeeds. It just takes us a bit to write them down so please be patient and check back every month or so for (hopefully) a new update.
As a side note, apparently, there's a real estate agency in China also named China Dirt. Just goes to show you - you're never as unique as you think you are.
Happy dating. Will update soon!
-CD girls
Sunday, December 9, 2007
The Naked Man
*Writer's note...it's been a while. I have to admit, it's been fairly drama free for all the girls for some time and there hasn't been much to dish, individually or collectively... but the dating gods seem to have decided that in terms of crazy what-the-fuck incidents that make for great stories, the lack in quantity will be made up for in terms of quality. Quality sleaziness, that is.*
My good friend Matt called me up one day. He had an acquaintance who was in town - a young man who wanted to check out the scene and possibly move here. Being married to a woman who apparently had him practically under house arrest, Matt implored me to take on the role of nightlife tour guide. I agreed. Any friend of Matt's was a friend of mine, right?
We had dinner and then drinks. The guy was articulate, witty and attractive. He insisted on paying for everything which was not expected but nice. I was charmed enough to let him sling an arm around my shoulders as we walked along the harbor and took in the lights of the skyline.
As the time approached to call it a night he began dropping hints of needing a place to stay.
"What happened to your hotel reservation?" I asked.
"I forgot to write down the address, I don't know where it is" he answered feebly. In retrospect that was probably the lamest excuse in the history of lame excuses but at that moment, three martinis in, anything seemed feasible.
"Can I crash at your place?" he asked.
I agreed, saying "Ok, you can sleep on the couch." I made sure to stress the word couch.
As soon as we stepped through the door, his lips were on mine. Giving into the chemistry of the evening and the feel of the three martinis, I let the kiss linger just a minute. I should have known. You give an inch, he takes a mile. In an instant his hand was down the back of my shirt in search of the bra hook. I pulled away.
"Tonight was nice, but I barely know you. I seriously meant it when I said you are taking the couch."
"You sure baby?" he cooed.
"I'm positive."
"No? I'm quite good at..." He flicked his tongue at me and made a slurping noise.
"Um, good for you... But I'm not sleeping with you. Or anything else," I added for emphasis.
He shrugged, gave me a peck on the cheek and made for the couch.
I'm not naive. Guys push their luck, I know that. And maybe it was stupidity on my part for having inadvertently hinted at the possibility of sex by allowing him to stay over. But as I watched him nest on the couch, I figured, no harm done. Just a misunderstanding.
The next morning I got up and checked on my house guest. He was lazily stretching on the couch. "Help yourself to milk or juice," I said as I headed into the bathroom. I washed up, brushed my teeth, combed my hair, etc.
I got out of the bathroom, walked into my room to find my house guest who only a few minutes ago had been on the couch now lying on my bed...STARK NAKED and um, rather... excited.
"What the...!" I stammered.
"It's ok, baby, come lie down with me," he said nonchalantly and patted a spot next to him.
"Get out!" I screamed, as I backed towards my roommate's door.
"Oh come on..." he cooed, making tsk tsk sounds with his tongue the way one does when trying to entice a cat to come over.
I reached my roommate's door and banged on it. My roommate is a fairly big Spanish dude. Say what you will about Latin men and their machismo, but machismo can bring out the best in a man when there's a damsel in distress. Not to mention bring out enough adrenaline in a man for him to unceremoniously toss another man out of an apartment. (In retrospect we really should have just kept the clothes instead of throwing them out after the sleazebag.)
SIDE NOTE: What the hell was he thinking????? What would possess a man to do that???? What could possibly make him think that this behavior would in any way endear him to me?????? Did he think my reluctance to do him was pure laziness. Like I just didn't want to go to the bother of undressing him so he'd save me the trouble???? "Well, now that I don't have to go to the effort of unzipping your pants....OK!" Seriously, WHAT THE HELL?????
I don't know. Maybe a woman showing up in bed naked would be great for a man, so he was thinking, "oh, all I need to do is show a little frontal nudity and she'll swoon with lust." But seriously guys, this sort of thing, NOT a turn on. It's more threatening than anything to a woman... All the China Dirt writers have encountered slime bags before but at least those scum buckets had half a brain cell.... there's seduction, there's sleaziness, and then there's just stupidity.
Anyway, I digress. I called Matt, the mutual friend, a few hours after the incident.
"Matt, you owe me dinner and drinks for life. Not to mention a new set of bedsheets."
My good friend Matt called me up one day. He had an acquaintance who was in town - a young man who wanted to check out the scene and possibly move here. Being married to a woman who apparently had him practically under house arrest, Matt implored me to take on the role of nightlife tour guide. I agreed. Any friend of Matt's was a friend of mine, right?
We had dinner and then drinks. The guy was articulate, witty and attractive. He insisted on paying for everything which was not expected but nice. I was charmed enough to let him sling an arm around my shoulders as we walked along the harbor and took in the lights of the skyline.
As the time approached to call it a night he began dropping hints of needing a place to stay.
"What happened to your hotel reservation?" I asked.
"I forgot to write down the address, I don't know where it is" he answered feebly. In retrospect that was probably the lamest excuse in the history of lame excuses but at that moment, three martinis in, anything seemed feasible.
"Can I crash at your place?" he asked.
I agreed, saying "Ok, you can sleep on the couch." I made sure to stress the word couch.
As soon as we stepped through the door, his lips were on mine. Giving into the chemistry of the evening and the feel of the three martinis, I let the kiss linger just a minute. I should have known. You give an inch, he takes a mile. In an instant his hand was down the back of my shirt in search of the bra hook. I pulled away.
"Tonight was nice, but I barely know you. I seriously meant it when I said you are taking the couch."
"You sure baby?" he cooed.
"I'm positive."
"No? I'm quite good at..." He flicked his tongue at me and made a slurping noise.
"Um, good for you... But I'm not sleeping with you. Or anything else," I added for emphasis.
He shrugged, gave me a peck on the cheek and made for the couch.
I'm not naive. Guys push their luck, I know that. And maybe it was stupidity on my part for having inadvertently hinted at the possibility of sex by allowing him to stay over. But as I watched him nest on the couch, I figured, no harm done. Just a misunderstanding.
The next morning I got up and checked on my house guest. He was lazily stretching on the couch. "Help yourself to milk or juice," I said as I headed into the bathroom. I washed up, brushed my teeth, combed my hair, etc.
I got out of the bathroom, walked into my room to find my house guest who only a few minutes ago had been on the couch now lying on my bed...STARK NAKED and um, rather... excited.
"What the...!" I stammered.
"It's ok, baby, come lie down with me," he said nonchalantly and patted a spot next to him.
"Get out!" I screamed, as I backed towards my roommate's door.
"Oh come on..." he cooed, making tsk tsk sounds with his tongue the way one does when trying to entice a cat to come over.
I reached my roommate's door and banged on it. My roommate is a fairly big Spanish dude. Say what you will about Latin men and their machismo, but machismo can bring out the best in a man when there's a damsel in distress. Not to mention bring out enough adrenaline in a man for him to unceremoniously toss another man out of an apartment. (In retrospect we really should have just kept the clothes instead of throwing them out after the sleazebag.)
SIDE NOTE: What the hell was he thinking????? What would possess a man to do that???? What could possibly make him think that this behavior would in any way endear him to me?????? Did he think my reluctance to do him was pure laziness. Like I just didn't want to go to the bother of undressing him so he'd save me the trouble???? "Well, now that I don't have to go to the effort of unzipping your pants....OK!" Seriously, WHAT THE HELL?????
I don't know. Maybe a woman showing up in bed naked would be great for a man, so he was thinking, "oh, all I need to do is show a little frontal nudity and she'll swoon with lust." But seriously guys, this sort of thing, NOT a turn on. It's more threatening than anything to a woman... All the China Dirt writers have encountered slime bags before but at least those scum buckets had half a brain cell.... there's seduction, there's sleaziness, and then there's just stupidity.
Anyway, I digress. I called Matt, the mutual friend, a few hours after the incident.
"Matt, you owe me dinner and drinks for life. Not to mention a new set of bedsheets."
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Reader Submission
WE'RE GOING TO POST this up here with the caveat that we realize that there are many sides to the dating scene. We don't necessarily condone this reader's actions but it is indicative of what does happen here in China (and many other places in the world).
Yeah, I'll admit it. I used to screw married guys in Beijing. It's not that I was on the hunt for men with rings on their fingers, but after 3 years in Asia, three years of starry-eyed hoping for That Special Someone (with repeatedly disastrous results), all you want is to get laid, leave a fake phone number and go home smiling. For the jaded, lost and given-up woman, 45-55 year old guys are the jam. Why?
1. They spare you the suffering of having to fake a mid-sex orgasm by – tada! – only lasting about 2 minutes.
2. They deliver a slew of actual orgasms as they go down on you (with decades of experience!) for multiple hours to make up for the fact that they can't "perform". Bank error in your favor, collect 200, um, orgasms. *cough*
3. They precede the sex by paying for dinner with old world charm and courtesy, pulling out your chair, opening your car door, and in general treating you like a lady. Okay, so the whole thing is horrifically corny, but you can't blame them for dancing the dance. Plus, it doesn't hurt to be wined and dined a couple times a month.
4. They only call when they're looking for a nice night out – which is about once a week.You don't really love them, they don't really love you, and everyone's clear on that fact. You can therefore feel free to be yourself in ways you never thought possible on a second date. If they don't like it, meh. You'll find another.
5. And if they had wives… well… none of my business.
The drawback, of course, is having to listen to golf stories for 3 hours at a stretch. I hasten to say that my soul was not in the healthiest, happiest, rainbow and unicorns place that year, and things have changed since then. But this was a time in my life where "The Patented 5:00AM Rule" was in effect every weekend – that is to say, kick them out by 5:00AM and you don't have to suffer through making them coffee. Nothing brings a guy back for more like shaking him awake after 20 minutes and telling him, "I had a great time. Now get out of my apartment." Smile while you say it. Politely affirm that you're not joking. Works like a charm.
Anyway, it was all going wonderfully for a while. A few guys who were infrequently in town, didn't care who else I was seeing and, I was getting on with my life until… well, let's call him Brandy.
Brandy started out OK. We met at my office, he bought me some drinks, he was very polite. But then… oh, but then… Never trust a man that doesn't drink coffee. Slowly, imperceptibly, the phone calls increased in volume. The dinners took on a whining, desperate tone. "See me tomorrow? No? Why not?" He offered to pay for my apartment. I refused. It's one thing for them to pay for dinner, but when they start giving you money, you're tied to them for good. Somewhere in the depths of their tiny lizard brains, they know this. He offered to buy me a boat if I'd be his girlfriend. He'd name it after me. "Don't push your luck," I said. Trips in Europe. "Sure - buy me a ticket and I'll write you a postcard." He offered to buy me a ticket back to the U.S. with him. "No," I said. He asked me to marry him.
"That's ridiculous," I replied."Buy WHY?" he pouted.
"Well," I reminded him for the five-thousandth time, "Because you're *already married*. Your wife is waiting for you back home, and to be honest, I'm not interested in a long-term relationship with anyone who cheats on his wife. Sounds hypocritical, but hey, that's just me."
And then he delivered the line that became my girlfriends' hilarious catchphrase for the next year: "But wives come and go!"
Wait, but you just… but you asked me to… and you still… what? I pity that poor woman. Some would say I should have expected this – after all, he was a douchebag to start with. But even a cheater ought to attempt some modicum of self-respect and respect for the (fourth) woman that currently wears his ring. I promptly left him, he promptly left the country, and I was magically cured of wrinkled pricks and married boys forever.
Yeah, I'll admit it. I used to screw married guys in Beijing. It's not that I was on the hunt for men with rings on their fingers, but after 3 years in Asia, three years of starry-eyed hoping for That Special Someone (with repeatedly disastrous results), all you want is to get laid, leave a fake phone number and go home smiling. For the jaded, lost and given-up woman, 45-55 year old guys are the jam. Why?
1. They spare you the suffering of having to fake a mid-sex orgasm by – tada! – only lasting about 2 minutes.
2. They deliver a slew of actual orgasms as they go down on you (with decades of experience!) for multiple hours to make up for the fact that they can't "perform". Bank error in your favor, collect 200, um, orgasms. *cough*
3. They precede the sex by paying for dinner with old world charm and courtesy, pulling out your chair, opening your car door, and in general treating you like a lady. Okay, so the whole thing is horrifically corny, but you can't blame them for dancing the dance. Plus, it doesn't hurt to be wined and dined a couple times a month.
4. They only call when they're looking for a nice night out – which is about once a week.You don't really love them, they don't really love you, and everyone's clear on that fact. You can therefore feel free to be yourself in ways you never thought possible on a second date. If they don't like it, meh. You'll find another.
5. And if they had wives… well… none of my business.
The drawback, of course, is having to listen to golf stories for 3 hours at a stretch. I hasten to say that my soul was not in the healthiest, happiest, rainbow and unicorns place that year, and things have changed since then. But this was a time in my life where "The Patented 5:00AM Rule" was in effect every weekend – that is to say, kick them out by 5:00AM and you don't have to suffer through making them coffee. Nothing brings a guy back for more like shaking him awake after 20 minutes and telling him, "I had a great time. Now get out of my apartment." Smile while you say it. Politely affirm that you're not joking. Works like a charm.
Anyway, it was all going wonderfully for a while. A few guys who were infrequently in town, didn't care who else I was seeing and, I was getting on with my life until… well, let's call him Brandy.
Brandy started out OK. We met at my office, he bought me some drinks, he was very polite. But then… oh, but then… Never trust a man that doesn't drink coffee. Slowly, imperceptibly, the phone calls increased in volume. The dinners took on a whining, desperate tone. "See me tomorrow? No? Why not?" He offered to pay for my apartment. I refused. It's one thing for them to pay for dinner, but when they start giving you money, you're tied to them for good. Somewhere in the depths of their tiny lizard brains, they know this. He offered to buy me a boat if I'd be his girlfriend. He'd name it after me. "Don't push your luck," I said. Trips in Europe. "Sure - buy me a ticket and I'll write you a postcard." He offered to buy me a ticket back to the U.S. with him. "No," I said. He asked me to marry him.
"That's ridiculous," I replied."Buy WHY?" he pouted.
"Well," I reminded him for the five-thousandth time, "Because you're *already married*. Your wife is waiting for you back home, and to be honest, I'm not interested in a long-term relationship with anyone who cheats on his wife. Sounds hypocritical, but hey, that's just me."
And then he delivered the line that became my girlfriends' hilarious catchphrase for the next year: "But wives come and go!"
Wait, but you just… but you asked me to… and you still… what? I pity that poor woman. Some would say I should have expected this – after all, he was a douchebag to start with. But even a cheater ought to attempt some modicum of self-respect and respect for the (fourth) woman that currently wears his ring. I promptly left him, he promptly left the country, and I was magically cured of wrinkled pricks and married boys forever.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Drunk, socially inept asshole
Many people's impressions of Americans come from movies and one of those impressions is of the American frat boy. The stereotype being of a loud, drunken douchebag who says things like "WHOO HOO" and "KEG STAND MUTHAFUCKER!!!" And while that stereotype isn't all true, the guy I met a couple weekend's ago certainly fit the bill. The sad part was he was way past the age to be in a frat but somehow missed that fact. By the time I was introduced to Overage Frat Boy (OFB for short), he was in prime form, sweating, red faced and affectionately jockying with his friends by calling them all "Faggots." Charming.
One of our mutual, perhaps thinking it a good joke, introduced me to the ever suave OFB...and then promptly melted into the crowd much like how I imagine OFB's STDs probably melted into one another.
"Hey, how are you?" he slurred as he extended one meaty, sweat glazed hand. "I'm good." I shouted back over the blaring music. "Where you from?" he asked as he scooted closer. "XXXXXX. Where are you from?" I replied. "I'm from Kansas." A long, awkward pause ensued as I desperately tried to find my "friend" but he was infuriatingly no where to be found. Fuck. "So... uh... my friend XXXXX is from Kansas. She's back there now. She's from Kansas, you're from Kansas. You MUST know her right? Ha Haaa..." I feebly joked to keep the conversation going. "What THE FUCK?" he shouted. Confused, I attempted to keep joking, "Uh... you know. It's a joke because obviously why would you know her? But I guess if you do know her, you can say hello to her for me when you're back in Kansas. Haha?"
"My fist can say hello to your face. HaHA. How's THAT for a joke?" He retorted, whilst actually making a fist in one hand and gesturing with the other as to my face saying hello to it.
Our mutual friend, who had apparently been gleefully watching our awkward convrsation turn horribly wrong hurried over with an appalled look on his face. "I don't really think, my face wants to say hello to your fist." I told OFB as I got up. "I would however, like to go to the bar and have someone buy me a drink." I looked pointedly at my slightly sheepish friend.
One of our mutual, perhaps thinking it a good joke, introduced me to the ever suave OFB...and then promptly melted into the crowd much like how I imagine OFB's STDs probably melted into one another.
"Hey, how are you?" he slurred as he extended one meaty, sweat glazed hand. "I'm good." I shouted back over the blaring music. "Where you from?" he asked as he scooted closer. "XXXXXX. Where are you from?" I replied. "I'm from Kansas." A long, awkward pause ensued as I desperately tried to find my "friend" but he was infuriatingly no where to be found. Fuck. "So... uh... my friend XXXXX is from Kansas. She's back there now. She's from Kansas, you're from Kansas. You MUST know her right? Ha Haaa..." I feebly joked to keep the conversation going. "What THE FUCK?" he shouted. Confused, I attempted to keep joking, "Uh... you know. It's a joke because obviously why would you know her? But I guess if you do know her, you can say hello to her for me when you're back in Kansas. Haha?"
"My fist can say hello to your face. HaHA. How's THAT for a joke?" He retorted, whilst actually making a fist in one hand and gesturing with the other as to my face saying hello to it.
Our mutual friend, who had apparently been gleefully watching our awkward convrsation turn horribly wrong hurried over with an appalled look on his face. "I don't really think, my face wants to say hello to your fist." I told OFB as I got up. "I would however, like to go to the bar and have someone buy me a drink." I looked pointedly at my slightly sheepish friend.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Muhahaha! You've Been Played!! uhh...call me...please?
(Yes, we've been lagging in our efforts lately...with new jobs, new classes, new apartments, Summer travels and visitors storming through Asia, our girls were a bit too busy to date or write. But, we're back!)
The guy and I had been dating for about six months. Two months in I already knew it wasn't going to work out. He was a bit too possessive for my liking. I tried to break it off a few times but each time it was the same. He'd go into a tirade, scream obscenities at me and storm out...but then he'd come back an hour later, begging, sobbing and literally hanging onto whatever limb of mine he could grasp, promising he'd change. And being a fool, I let this go on for a few more months until one day I ended things for good and cut contact with him cold turkey.
A few weeks later I got a text message from him at 2am saying "I have a new girlfriend and we're IN LOVE!" Ok. Good for you. I got a similar message at 2:10 and another at 2:34. Uh huh. If you're so IN LOVE why are you not in bed doing what two people in love do during the night instead of messaging me?
This all took place about a year ago. I haven't kept up on him in the interim except to hear from mutual friends that he had moved back to his home country of Germany.
Today I got an email from him that said "Guess what? I never loved you. I was married the whole time! You were played!!! (Attached is a picture of me, my wife and my daughter.)"
AND THEN....he leaves his phone numbers (mobile, office and home).
After the initial what-the-fuck moment I started laughing. If he really is married, then he's a dirty bastard but also completely stupid because who the hell leaves a home phone number for a mistress? Which leads to the second, more likely possiblity that he's just making all this up for a reaction which makes him dirty, stupid and pathetic.
Nice try buddy. Next time at least attach a picture of a woman who doesn't look like your sister.
The guy and I had been dating for about six months. Two months in I already knew it wasn't going to work out. He was a bit too possessive for my liking. I tried to break it off a few times but each time it was the same. He'd go into a tirade, scream obscenities at me and storm out...but then he'd come back an hour later, begging, sobbing and literally hanging onto whatever limb of mine he could grasp, promising he'd change. And being a fool, I let this go on for a few more months until one day I ended things for good and cut contact with him cold turkey.
A few weeks later I got a text message from him at 2am saying "I have a new girlfriend and we're IN LOVE!" Ok. Good for you. I got a similar message at 2:10 and another at 2:34. Uh huh. If you're so IN LOVE why are you not in bed doing what two people in love do during the night instead of messaging me?
This all took place about a year ago. I haven't kept up on him in the interim except to hear from mutual friends that he had moved back to his home country of Germany.
Today I got an email from him that said "Guess what? I never loved you. I was married the whole time! You were played!!! (Attached is a picture of me, my wife and my daughter.)"
AND THEN....he leaves his phone numbers (mobile, office and home).
After the initial what-the-fuck moment I started laughing. If he really is married, then he's a dirty bastard but also completely stupid because who the hell leaves a home phone number for a mistress? Which leads to the second, more likely possiblity that he's just making all this up for a reaction which makes him dirty, stupid and pathetic.
Nice try buddy. Next time at least attach a picture of a woman who doesn't look like your sister.
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